A Pound of Flesh
by Kristen999
Summary: Conclusion up Egos, testosterone, murder oh my . A dead body at a local gym spirals out of control for Nick and Catherine.This is a friendship story featuring apperances from the rest of the team. Focus is on Nick.
1. Default Chapter

Title: A Pound of Flesh

Author: Kristen999

Category: Angst/ Drama

Spoilers: None. Set during Season 4

Disclaimer: All rights belong to CBS and all thier fine writers. Please don't sue. This is just for fun.

Summary: Egos, testosterone, murder oh my . A dead body at a local gym spirals out of control for Nick and Catherine. This is a friendship story featuring apperances from the rest of the team. Focus is on Nick.

Archive: Go ahead. Just let me know.

Notes: I want to thank my wonderful beta Kris! Its been wonderful working with you the past few months. Thanks to listening to my ideas and giving me some very wonderful suggestions! You are the best! Comments are of course welcomed just keep in mind this is fanfiction. I hope every enjoys the ride. Chapter one is always a little long to give everyone a decent set up.

* * *

Traffic in Las Vegas was always heavy. It was backed up during peak hours around the strip, but in the rain, people acted as if they had never seen water fall from the sky. Cars cut in and out in front of each other, brake lights lined the streets, their red lights illuminating a night that was hard to navigate in. Nick Stokes had no problems driving in this kind of weather; he carefully maneuvered the Tahoe around some of the less cautious drivers. The CSI wore a short sleeved black T-shirt that showed off the ex-jock's well toned arms. His black cap labeled Forensics hid his dark short hair. The squared jaw Texan tried to hide a yawn from his passenger, but wasn't able to completely suppress it.

His partner for the evening was Catherine Willows. The senior CSI looked alert for the lack of hours she had slept in the past three days. Her blonde strawberry hair was pulled back into a pony tail, and her elegant white blouse seemed as if had just been picked up from the dry cleaners, instead of being the same shirt and tan pants she been wearing for over a day.

Catherine glanced at Nick and smiled coyly. "Don't be yawning now, we haven't even arrived at the scene yet."

Nick gave her one his patented smiles that made him so charming to work with. "I'll just get a cup of coffee when we get back to the lab. I'll be fine."

Catherine laughed. "This is our fourth double shift, Nicky. Warrick's been in court all week for two different cases and Grissom and Sara have been pulling overtime on that political case with that murdered councilman. Don't think for a moment that the sludge from the lab is going to keep you going, when I know you've had less shut eye then I have."

Nick's grin widened. "I made Greg promise to save me a cup his special blend. So, it won't be too toxic. Besides, I don't mind covering a little so you can sneak some time in to be with your daughter."

Nick pulled into the sparse parking lot of Gold's Gym. This private health club was a hidden workout haven for the Vegas yuppie population. It was open at very late hours and catered to the professional crowds. Its monthly dues were off the charts, but it was a small facility. It appealed to those who wanted personalized attention.

Both CSI's unloaded their field kits and each sported an umbrella to meet the unflappable Detective Jim Brass in the parking lot. Brass never showed the anxiousness that's usually prevalent in his line of work. He waited patiently for the criminalists under a water logged and battered umbrella, which sad state could only be attributed to him standing in the downpour for quite some time . His gray suit and dark blue tie were liberally spattered with water droplets in an oddly interesting pattern that Nick absently noted. He wiped some of the rain droplets that had beaded around his head, running his hand through his sparse hair.

Catherine nodded to him. "You could have waited for us inside."

Jim shrugged. "Don't really care to be around so many muscle heads." The Detective held open the door for the duo and the three of them entered a lobby.

Two people huddled in the corner whispering to each other. Both of them turned when they saw the police enter.

Brass nodded to a red-haired woman. "Ms. Wilson, this is Catherine Willows and Nick Stokes from the Crime lab." Brass looked over at the CSI's, "Ms. Wilson is the owner of the gym."

Michelle Wilson shook each criminalists' hand. Her grip was strong, which wasn't surprising. She had an athletic build, nice muscles and shapely hips. She worked out obviously, but managed to keep her feminine look. She was wearing a dark green tank top and black sweat pants that hugged her body in all the right ways.

"You want to tell us what happened, Ms. Wilson?" Nick asked.

"It's Michelle." She gave the CSI a small smile as her fierce brown eyes wandered over his face. "I'd just finished working with the books."

"What time was that?" Nick asked ignoring the appraising look she was giving him.

"Um ... around midnight. We're usually quiet around that time, so I was just checking a few things with the accounts. My eyes were kind of burning from staring at them all night." She glanced over at the man who was standing a few inches away from her.

Nick looked up and noted an ox of a man staring at her almost protectively. The CSI thought the brutishly big guy seemed a whole lot smaller when he had first entered the room.

"Anyway, I went around checking in on any guests. I went though the aerobics area, the saunas and then the weight room."

Catherine observed the owner trade glances with her male friend. Michelle took a deep breath and continued. "The lights were out, which was strange. I found the light switch and turned it on and saw Walter on one of the weight benches. At first I thought he was just taking a nap or something, but then I noticed that the bar bell was laying on top of him."

Nick and Catherine scribbled notes while Brass just stood waiting for the rest of the tale to unfold. "I went over to the bench and that's when I discovered that the bar bell was over his throat. I checked for a pulse and found none. I called 911 and waited for help to arrive."

Michelle seemed fairly composed for someone who discovered a dead body in her weight room. Nick narrowed his eyes. "And Walter was an employee here?"

"Yeah, he was a personal trainer; worked a lot with free weights and weight training."

"Are all the other workers and guests still here?" Catherine asked.

Detective Brass spoke up. "Yeah, I've interviewed the five that were here. Also, there's Roger, here," Brass pointed at Michelle Wilson's male friend. "There's the assistant instructor, Blair Olsen, and the receptionist, Nancy Brookes."

Nick took a few steps towards the large figure who had been silent for the past few minutes. "You're Roger...?"

"Sikes. I'm the head workout instructor here." The instructor stood at least 6' 3" and looked like he weighed over 220 pounds. He had a shaved head, a neck that looked too large for his head, and dark blue eyes. He was wearing a white T-shirt that barely covered his well muscled frame and red sweat pants that clung to the tree trunks that served as his legs.

"Where were you this evening?" Nick asked.

"I was busy running around, since I also act as operations manger. I knew Michelle was working on the accounts, so I was the person out and around for most of the night. Then I took a swim in the pool," the man answered.

"What time was that?" Nick questioned.

The bigger man shrugged. "I dunno, maybe around 11. I was walking over to the saunas when Michelle ran out of the weight room and grabbed me. She told me she called an ambulance and I waited with her for help to arrive."

Nick's eyebrows shot up. "When did you get a chance to change clothes?"

"When I was done with my swim," Roger replied, annoyed.

Nick gave him a smile he reserved for people that were unnerving. "You got off work around 11, took a swim... how many laps you think?"

Roger crossed his arms in front of his chest. "What does it matter? Shouldn't you be doing something about finding out why one of our employees is dead?"

"I am, Sir," Nick replied coolly. "So, how many laps?" Nick pressed on.

"I always do twenty," the muscled man replied proudly.

"Always?" Nick echoed, thinking that was a lot of laps in such a short amount of time.

The corner of Roger's mouth twitched. "Yeah, always. Whenever I hit the pool I swim 20. Some of us have an extensive routine to follow to the letter."

Nick kept himself in check by not snorting at such pretensions. Instead he nodded and asked another question. "You waited for the EMT's. You didn't want to check on your coworker yourself?"

Roger's eyes narrowed. "Didn't need to, buddy. If Michelle said he was dead, then he was."

Nick scribbled a few more notes and looked to Catherine to see if he should continue. She shook her head and he turned back to Roger, making a mental note to question him later. "Thanks for your help."

Nick picked up his kit and they followed the owner into the weight room. Catherine went over to the body. The coroner had already pronounced earlier, and had left the barbell on the DB, until the criminalists could examine it.

Catherine began to take photos of the position of the DB on the workout bench. The victim lay on his back, his arms laying limply to his sides. The criminalist noted the amount of weights attached to the dumbbell. He apparently had been trying to lift 350 pounds.

Nick took a few snapshots of the weights, documenting the amount. Catherine glanced up suddenly and noticed that Michelle had followed them into the room. "You can't be in here, Ms. Wilson."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

The owner was about to leave when Nick stood up. "Hey, wait. Do you know the typical amount of free weights he'd bench?"

Michelle brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "His typical refs were 180 to 200 pounds."

Nick nodded, knowing that the victim appeared as if he was trying to bench over a hundred thirty pounds more than his best performance. Suicide, really.

"So, how much do you bench, Mr. Stokes?"

Nick laughed. "Around 160, maybe 180."

The gym owner smiled. "Yeah, I knew you worked out. You belong to a local gym? Because I can assure you we offer a great..."

Nick held out his hands, interrupting. "Ms. Wilson, I can' talk about this right now. I've got a job to do. However if you think of anything else, here is my card." Nick handed his infomation over to her.

The owner nodded. "Maybe later." The attractive woman wandered out. Nick noticed Ox Man Sikes in the hallway. He grabbed her arm a little more forcibly than Nick would have liked.The owner yanked her arm out of his grasp and stalked off, Sikes matching her irritated stride.

The CSI returned to the victim and ignored the glances from his partner.

"Enjoying yourself, Nicky?" Catherine teased.

Nick flashed her a smile. "She comes off a bit too heavy."

Catherine had been studing the body, and simply laughed. "She's cute."

Nick said nothing. He walked to the bench sliding on a pair of latex gloves. He looked over at his parnter. "We ready to examine the body?"

Catherine nodded. "You need some help?"

Nick thought about it for a second and shook his head. "It'll be easier if I just lifted it up by myself."

Nick looked behind him to see where he could place the large barbell. Catherine watched him as he went to the head of the bench and flexed his hands. The CSI bent at his kness slightly and then lifted the heavy barbell off the body, keeping it close to his chest. He grit his teeth, his arms flexing with the strain while at the same time exemplified the muscles beneath his tight t-shirt. After a moment he carefuly lowered the heavy object to the floor. Finished, he dug out some finger print powder and set to work.

"Show off," Catherine said chuckling.

Nick smiled as he continued working on the free weights, dusting for prints. "You know, people who work with weights know their limits. You don't press more than your body weight for fast refs, and you only do about 40 or 50 pounds more if you're doing strength training."

Catherine was going over the vic's throat, examining the bruising. "Well, he could have been in a macho streak, lifting more than he could handle. Then wasn't able to keep the excess weight off of him."

"Or, someone came around and pressed the bar down on him. But then the suspect adds weights to make it look like an accident?" Nick shook his head. "No palm prints."

Catherine stood up and looked at the set of weights. "You know, it would take someone in pretty good shape to lift 350 lbs. in the first place."

"We could just narrow it down to anyone that weighs more than 280, " Nick joked.

Both CSI's continued to process the room, but without much success. There were dozens of finger prints that would have to be ID'ed back at the lab. The sparseness of the room didn't leave much for trace evidence, either. There were no signs of a struggle, so Nick went to finger print the light switch to see if the person who had turned off the lights had left their mark.

Catherine packed up her kit. Brass had concluded most of his interviews with the customers, and the trio grouped together to split up the rest of the people to question. Brass went to speak with Nancy Brookes, Catherine would interview the Assistant Instructor, and Nick walked around the lobby trying to a get feel for the people who worked at the facility. The coroner had returned to take the body to the morgue, where the autopsy would hopefully provide a few more clues.

Catherine wandered over to Blair Olsen, another well built person that worked at the club. The Assistant instructor was a shade over 6 feet tall, with a crew cut, and arms that had to be larger than his thighs. He wore a red T-shirt that was too small, and black running shorts.

Catherine looked at the mammoth man and took a deep breath in an effort to hide her fatigue. They still had some hours at the lab to log before going home, just to go back to work early at the beginning of what would be the swing shift instead of the graveyard. "Mr. Olsen, where were you from 10 p.m. to midnight?"

"I had a one on one with a client. Ms. Christy Hines. I'm sure she can vouch for me." The instructor fiddled with his massive hands, his eyes darting around the room.

Catherine wrote down the contact information so she could verify the guest log with the name. "Do you know much about Mr. Davis?"

Blair Olsen clicked his jaw, seemingly annoyed. "Of course I knew Walter well. We all have been friends since high school. We both took jobs here when Michelle and Roger started this gym."

The senior CSI knew to tread lightly, not wanting to lose the interview with high emotion. "I'm sorry Mr. Blair. I know this can be difficult. Do you know what Walter was doing earlier in the evening?"

"No, ma'am. I know he went home a few hours earlier. He works the early shift. I don't even know why he was here."

Catherine raised her eyebrow. "Is it possible he came back here to workout?"

Blair laughed, the only emotion he had displayed besides his forced cooperation. "Nah, why would he? I mean he gets all his training in during the day, plus all the classes he teaches then. Have no clue why he'd be lifting weights in the middle of the night."

"Thank you for your help." Catherine wrote down a few notes and went searching for her partner.

Nick had finished scoping out the waiting area, trying to soak in some sense of the place. He was going to go find Catherine when he noticed a small commotion in the lobby. Intrigued he wandered over to see Michelle and Sikes talking to another person who was trying to enter the gym.

Roger Sikes tried to block that path of a stocky guy out the door, who was having none of the overbearing man.

"Look, Bob, things are fine here. Why don't you just roll on back to your home and we'll fill you in all details in the morning."

Nick glanced at Bob. He was a short guy... maybe 5'5, with balding hair. He wore eyeglasses and had a very round head. The striking thing about Bob was that his arms looked larger than his thighs. Nick chuckled to himself: the guy kind looked a little like a pit bull. With his disproportional upper half, buying clothes for his unusual size must have been a challenge.

He was speaking in a soft voice as the CSI approached. "I-I was just driving around and saw all the police lights. I was just making sure everything was all right."

"Look, Bobby Boy, no one needs physical therapy tonight. You can come and hassle our customers tomorrow, but for right now, get out of here." Roger Sikes appeared to be a man of little patience.

Michelle struggled to restrain her overbearing manager, pulling him away from the smaller man.

Nick decided this was his cue to let his presence be known as he approached the trio. "I'm Nick Stokes with the crime lab. I'm sorry sir, this is a crime scene and we can't let you enter the premises."

Bob looked at Nick, obviously never hearing his approach. "Crime scene? What's going on here?"

Roger glared at the CSI. "We can take care of our own business. I think we're capable of handling our employees." He turned back to the smaller man. "Go home, Bob."

Bob looked at Michelle, as if trying to determine that she approved her manager's harsh words.

The owner placed her hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. I'll tell you about it in the morning, I promise."

Reluctantly the compact man turned and left as Michelle strutted over to Nick's side, despite the obvious daggers that Roger Sikes shot at her behind her back. Nick for his part didn't want the attention of the owner. He was always flattered when he caught the eye of an attractive woman, but he was plain exhausted and didn't really want the headache of dealing with a flirtatious witness with an obviously overly jealous boyfriend.

Michelle gave the criminalist a gleaming smile. "So, Nick, now maybe we can talk a little. Do you belong to a gym?"

Nick noticed the use of his first name and looked at the floor, a gesture he affected when he didn't want to take the time to discuss a topic he wasn't in the mood for. "Yes, Ms. Wilson, I do."

Roger had now moved next to the owner's side, like some some guard dog.

"I'm sure if you gave this gym a chance, you'd really learn to like it. It's the least I can do for trying to figure out what happened here."

"Ms. Wilson, I have a contract with a place near my townhouse. Real convenient for when I get off work. Your place seems to offer a lot of wonderful services, but I'm fine where I am," Nick tried to reason with her. He felt very drained all of a sudden and longed for the activity of the lab, or maybe even the comfort of his bed.

Roger huffed. "I'm sure it's better that way, Mr. Stokes. We're kind of a specialized place, for people who are really serious about their bodies."

Nick wasn't about to be baited by ox-man. "I have my own program that I follow just fine."

"I'm sure you do. What, you hit the weight room, every once in a while? Like to take a dip in the pool when it's summer time? I deal with you washed up ex-college athletes all the time," Roger sneered as he looked over the criminalist with disdain.

Nick shook his head; he wasn't going to get into a macho verbal battle with an insecure exercise instructor. "Mr. Sikes, a man died tonight in your weight room. I'm a little too busy to discuss my workout routine."

Michelle Wilson either wanted to stir the pot, or was just clueless about her employee's obvious jealous streak. She lightly ran her hands over the CSI's forearms, then started towards his upper arms. "To get this kind of muscle tone, I'd say you go to the gym about four or five times a week." The owner stepped closer and peered at Nick's face and studied his neck and his chest. "I bet you follow a strict diet as well."

Not comfortable with her closeness or the position she was putting him in, Nick stepped back a comfortable distance from her. "Ms. Wilson, my life outside this investigation isn't relevant here. If I have any other questions, I'll be sure to let you know."

Nick's eyes went wide with disbelief when she again closed the distance between them. His face flushed slightly in embarrassment over such a strong advance. Michelle placed her hand on his shoulder and spoke to him in a sultry tone. "Do I make you uncomfortable, Nick?"

Maintaining his professionalism and containing his irritation, Nick pulled her hand off his shoulder. "Do not do this," he said sternly.

The gym owners' expression changed from seductive to flustered at his turn down. "Well, your loss, Mr. CSI." She stormed off.

Nick sighed and shook his head. Sometimes he could never understand the behavior of some women.

Her overbearing employee, however, remained, and Ox Man grabbed Nick's arm forcibly. "She's out of your league cowboy. I'll tell you one thing, don't you ever touch her again."

It took every bit of effort to keep his anger in check. Roger Sikes' grip was of course unnecessarily tight. Nick glared at the instructor, keeping his voice calm and collected. The tone he used was authoritative as well as slightly raised. "Mr. Sikes, you will let go of my arm now, before this becomes an incident that you will regret."

Roger Sikes squeezed harder, his voice menacing, "Yeah? What are you going to do? Arrest me?"

"No, I will."

Roger released his grip just as Nick was about to lose his self control. Both men turned to see Jim Brass only a few steps away. The detective's expression was stern and he looked like he just needed an excuse to load muscleman into the patrol car. Catherine was next to him, her expression more alarmed than surprised.

Roger Sikes whispered, "You always need another person to get you out of jam?"

Nick was about to get in the other man's face when he felt a calming hand on his arm. Catherine looked at him, shaking her head, and Nick knew she was warning him to back down. This situation was going to stay under control. She guided him to another corner of the room.

Jim Brass, however, had no trouble confronting the instructor. "You don't ever lay a hand on any police officer or member of the Las Vegas Crime lab, you got it buddy?"

Roger nodded, his face still slightly red from his temper. Just in case the bull headed one didn't get the message, Jim leaned closer. "Do not _ever_ threaten a CSI or interfere with this investigation, or you'll find yourself hauled downtown so fast your head will spin."

The instructor's face got a hue redder, his answer clipped. "Yes, detective." The instructor lumbered out of the lobby.

Instead of sticking around, Jim walked outside, leaving the CSI's alone in the lobby.

Catherine Willows knew that her partner would never instigate an argument with a witness or potential suspect. However, the testosterone of this place was at an all time high and she wanted to put a lid on things before things got out of hand.

"What was all that about?" she asked.

Nick faced her, biting his bottom lip. "Gym owner got a little too touchy feely and I stopped her from making any more advances. The Ox got over zealous and let his overblown ego get in the way."

Catherine locked eyes with her partner. "You kept your cool, Nicky. I know that. I just wanted to know what got stud boy all riled up."

Nick let out a small laugh. "I'm just irresistible towards women, I guess."

Catherine rolled her eyes.

"Seriously though, guy's just got a short fuse. I would have handled it fine."

The senior CSI smiled at the younger man. "I trust that you would." She touched his arm. "He leave a mark?"

Tired of it being an issue, Nick shrugged the attention away. "I don't think so. Let's just get back to the lab. We still have the last part of what's looking to be a long night."

Catherine studied Nick. The lines around his eyes were a bit more pronounced and he had dark circles overshadowing them. It was time to get things rolling on this case, so both of them could get some much needed sleep. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea."

TBC...

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

Catherine studied Nick. The lines around his eyes were a bit more pronounced and he had dark circles overshadowing them. It was time to get things rolling on this case, so both of them could get some much needed sleep. "Yeah, I think that's a good idea."

* * *

Catherine was searching for Nick. Dr. Robbins was backed up and the autopsy would be performed in the morning. It was the end of their shift and they still needed to run all the prints collected from the scene. It had been helpful that Gold's Gym kept extensive employee records, which included fingerprints. Catherine rubbed the tired muscles in her neck as she rounded the corner towards one of the lab rooms.

She found Nick making photo copies of the collection of prints and was scanning them into the computer to compare them to the gym's staff. Once this was done the CSI could determine if there were any prints that didn't match the employees, and learn who in the staff had been in that room. He was wearing the same blue lab coat the she was sporting now and sipping what had to be at least his third cup of coffee since they had returned from the scene.

"Any progress?" she asked.

Nick glanced up from the screen he had been glued to for the last couple of hours. "Well, it depends how you look at it. There were three sets of prints from the light switch, all staff. Michelle Wilson's, which she mentioned touching. There was also Roger Sikes' and Bob Fulton's."

Catherine looked at the results. "So, the owner and manager's prints are there. That can be from any time and not really probable. They work there."

Nick nodded. "Yeah, but all three of their prints were also on the weights and dumbbell."

Catherine's eyebrow shot up, "Really? So, who's Bob Fulton?"

Nick flipped through the folder that had been laying on the desk. "He doesn't work for the gym, he's more like a free lance contractor. He's a physical therapist that works with some of the ex-athletes that go there."

"All right. We won't get the autopsy report till the morning. We can re-interview people tomorrow and get a chance to talk to Mr. Fulton." Catherine explained, trying to wrap up things for the night.

Nick was placing papers together. "I'm actually going to test out a theory of mine tonight."

The other CSI's curiosity was piqued. "What's that?"

Nick removed his lab coat and they headed towards the door. "Roger Sikes claimed he went for a swim at 11, did about twenty laps, dried off, then ran into Michelle afterwards."

Both of them walked through the lab, heading for their lockers. Catherine knew what the younger CSI was thinking. "Twenty laps in under an hour. Yeah, that doesn't sound right. But, Nick..." She placed her hand on his forearm. "You're not going to swim laps somewhere? I mean, you need to stay fresh while we're dealing with these grueling hours."

Nick grabbed his leather jacket. "Don't worry. I'm just going to time a few people at my gym. I'm not up for a night swim."

The senior CSI smiled. "All right, but get some shut eye, all right? We've got another long one tomorrow."

* * *

The CSI lab was bustling with activity when Nick arrived for his shift half an hour early. That meant he saw the sun shining in the middle of the afternoon instead of the normal midnight that he clocked in. He had grabbed a bowl of cereal at his place and was already feeling the signs of an impending headache. He thought about stopping by to say hello to Greg, but the DNA lab tech was up to his ears in analysis from the big case Grissom and Sara were working on. Nick was heading to the morgue to see what the good doctor had to say about their victim. Nick remembered to shower and change into clean clothes, his short sleeved blue shirt and dark brown chinos made him feel a little fresher. He was carrying the results from his little experiment that had kept him at his gym longer than planned, but he was very eager to share the results with his partner.

He was rounding a corner when he eyed Warrick Brown heading his direction. The other CSI was dressed in a black suit with no tie, as he was off to court today. Warrick had a streak of bad luck that affected everyone else on the team. He had three different cases that he had been involved in on the docket for the week, so he'd been spending more time on the stand than in the lab. He lent a hand when he could on the political case the rest of the graveyard shift was involved in.

Warrick stopped, he and Nick shook hands and then exchanged their personal 'ghetto' low five. "What's going on, man?"

Nick tucked his papers between his arm and side. "Nothing, just about to check out my vic's report and then do some more follow up interviews."

"Yeah, I heard one of your suspects got a little out of hand last night." Warrick eyed the bruise that was peeking out from under the short sleeve on his friend's arm.

Nick was in such a hurry to get over to the lab, he had forgotten about the mark. "Yeah, well, that hot head is on my list of people to talk to today."

Warrick studied his friend for a moment. He knew Catherine and Nick had been burning the candle at both ends of late and it just angered him that political cases got top priority. Nick was still the beacon of robust health, but he looked really tired and that was just unlike him.

"You guys holler at me if you need anything. I'll try to help out if I can."

Nick smiled. "Thanks. I'll let you know."

Warrick headed down the hall and Nick continued on to the morgue. He was surprised to see Catherine already there. Wasn't she the one that had been on him about getting sleep, he mused, when she had arrived before shift as well?

Dr. Robbins smiled as the CSI entered. "Looks like you two both got here early." He pointed at the body. "I was just finishing up with Catherine."

Nick looked at her. "Recap?"

"It would seem someone was trying to steer us off course on this one."

Puzzled, Nick looked to the coroner for an explanation.

The doctor smiled in amusement. "You victim was strangled first, by a cord of some kind. See these ligature marks." He pointed to some dark bruising that appeared all around the neck.

"Yeah, I see." Nick leaned over to study the blackish bruises.

"Well, those were made first. Then covered by a second set of bruises caused by the weight of the bar. That bruising is purple and happened post mortem." The coroner explained.

Nick and Catherine looked at each other, both thinking the same thing. What would be the reason for trying to hide the first set of marks?

"Why go through the trouble of trying to make it seem like he died while trying to lift too much weight? Doesn't make much sense," Nick questioned out loud.

Catherine peered at the body, and then back to the confused expression of her partner. "I don't know. To hide what he used to strangle him? These marks didn't leave any wounds around the neck, no fibers or anything. Or maybe to throw off where he was killed."

Nick thought for a moment. "You think he was moved? "

Catherine shook her head, at a loss for a reasonable explanation. "I'm not sure. David said TOD was around midnight. That's about the time when the owner said she found him. But she didn't notice anyone out of the ordinary."

Both criminalists continued to discuss the case as they exited the morgue and headed for a small conference room. Catherine got a call from Jim Brass and talked to the detective on the phone while her partner pulled out the file folder he had been carrying.

Catherine flipped her cell shut. "Jim verified Blair Olsen's alibi, he had an appointment with a Deana Ford till after midnight." The CSI suppressed a grin when she saw the eager glee in her partner's eyes. He was smiling too much and that's when she noticed the paper. "Got something on your experiment, Nicky?"

Nick chuckled. "Glad you asked. It takes a normal person over ninety minutes to do twenty laps in the pool. I don't think our buddy Sikes was in the pool as long as he claims or even went swimming to begin with."

"How many people did you watch for this little test?" Catherine inquired.

There was that smile again. "I watched six swimmers for a couple of hours. Talked to a few of them, too."

It was her turn to smile. "How many phone numbers did you get?"

Nick's grin got larger. "One."

"Just one?" Catherine laughed before focusing back on the case. "Our boy Sikes may not have been in the pool then, and he's certainly strong enough to lift 350 pounds."

"Yeah, that's true. Still don't have a motive," Nick said, frustrated.

"He seems to ogle all over the owner. Maybe there's some history between them. I mean they did start the gym together?" Catherine reasoned.

"He certainly acts like the jealous type. Might do some digging on their history. See if there was something that set this guy off." Nick gathered his papers.

"We won't jump the gun yet. We have no real physical evidence whatsoever," Catherine cautioned.

"Then we'll keep narrowing our focus on suspects till we can find some." Nick replied matter-of-factly.

Catherine Willows shook her head. Nick Stokes was one cocky criminalist sometimes, but that was one of the reasons why she loved working with him.

* * *

Both CSI's were using a small office to conduct their interviews at the police station. Catherine sat back and enjoyed one of the few moments of inactivity. Grissom had promised that she and Nick would get two days off in a row sometime next week. She adjusted her brown leather jacket, as it was very chilly in the room they occupied, and she was only wearing a sleeveless cream colored blouse and a pair of khaki pressed pants.

She heartily wished for a cup of coffee as she looked over at her younger partner. Nick was restless, pacing the office, and his nervous energy was starting to drive her crazy. She was running on fumes; although her fatigue was not showing on the case, she could tell it was making her a little edgy. Catherine grabbed Nick's arm as he passed by her. "I don't think we want a trail in the carpet here."

Nick lowered himself in a chair and rubbed his hands through his short hair. All of his eagerness from earlier that day was now ebbing away to a full blown headache. His temples hurt and he kept trying to ignore the pain by diverting his attention walking circles in the office. He was about to ask his partner for an aspirin when Bob Fulton finally arrived.

The squat man nervously fiddled with his glasses as he stood in the room. He was wearing a Gold Gym's T-shirt and black dress pants; a very odd clothing combination to say the least. He appeared to be in his early thirties, with thinning hair, and held his hands in front of him.

"Mr. Fulton, why don't you sit down, " Nick suggested to the anxious man.

Bob slowly sat down, grimacing slightly.

Nick looked at the pit bull-looking guy with interest. "Bad knees, Mr. Fulton?"

"Yeah, blown from too much sports in high school," he laughed.

The ex-jock smiled sympathetically. "Mr. Fulton, I recognize you from last night. What were you doing coming by the gym so late, when you work there during the day?"

"I live near by and was coming home from the grocery store. When I saw the flashing lights and everything I decided to stop by and check things out."

"How long have you been working at the club, Mr. Fulton?" Catherine asked.

"I've been there for about six months."

"And in what parts of the gym do you work with people?" Nick asked, trying to determine why his prints were on the light switch in the weight room.

"I stick to the physical therapy room most of the time." Fulton started drumming his fingers on the table.

"Do you ever go into the weight rooms or other facilities to work out, or to conduct business?" Catherine asked.

Fulton stared at the CSI. "No, not really. I just stick to where I'm supposed to be."

"What about last night?" Nick asked.

"No, just a few hours in the physical therapy room, working with an ex- soccer player, Dennis Buckman." The man continued to drum his fingers on the desk and was starting to tap his foot on the floor.

"Sir, could you explain to us why we found your fingerprints on a light switch in the weight room?" Nick looked at him. He didn't like being lied to, and if this man was being deceitful about where he had been that day, then what else was he hiding?

Fulton began tapping on the desk with just his pointer finger; the noise was echoing loudly in the small office. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "What... my prints... I don't understand?"

Nick leaned in closer. "Yes, they were found on the light switch."

Bob surreptitiously glanced around, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "I-I could get into a lot of trouble with Roger Sikes. He doesn't like me using the facilities at the club. Says I still would have to pay fees. So... I... ah... well, I sneak in from time to time. I did that day around 4 p.m.."

Nick stared at him intently. "Mr. Fulton, it's not good to lie to us."

"I-I know. I'm sorry. I just didn't want Roger to find out."

Fulton's foot and fingers had not ceased tapping, and the noise was starting to grate on Nick's nerves. He ignored the annoying gestures and tried to forget about the increasing tension in his temples. This interview was looking like a bust and he wanted to move on.

Catherine noticed her partner's weariness, but she still had a couple of questions of her own. "Mr. Fulton, why are you afraid of Roger Sikes?"

"He's got a-a horrible temper. I just don't like it when he yells at me."

Catherine arched an eyebrow; this guy was timid as a mouse. "Did he ever lose his temper with anyone else? Did he argue with a lot of people?"

Bob shrugged. "He got into it with people all the time. He and Walter fought constantly... mostly over Michelle."

This got Nick's attention. "What did they argue about?"

"Michelle is a big flirt with just about anyone. She loves to show off in front any man who has her attention."

"Yeah, we noticed that," Catherine said wryly.

Nick gave her a pained look. "Are she and Roger a couple?"

Bob Fulton stopped tapping the table, and now both his knees were vibrating as both feet were bouncing up and down. "They've been off again and on again. He always thinks they're a couple. That's why he had it out a few days ago with Walter, because Roger has been dating Michelle for the past month."

Nick was excited about this new information. There was some personnel history going on at Gold's Gym. This could lead to motive, however in their job that was just icing on the cake. With so little physical evidence, this time around motive could lead to real clues.

Nick had been mulling over these ideas, but was having a tough time with all the noise their witness was making with his nervous tapping. In a tone little harsher than he intended, Nick blurted out, "Will you please stop that insistent tapping, Mr. Fulton?"

Bob Fulton bolted out of his chair and pounded his fist on the table, startling both criminalists. "All you have to do is ask nicely!" he yelled.

Nick stared wide eyed at Fulton. The CSI stood up slowly and placed his hands out in front of him in a calming manner. "I'm sorry, Bob," Nick said in a calming voice, almost as he was speaking to a rebellious child. "Didn't mean for it to come out like that."

Catherine had her mouth open in shock at the outburst from someone she had pegged as timid. She glanced at Nick, who shot her his own confused, almost amused expression. Bob Fulton for his part was wringing his hands in front of him, the color in his face changing from red to white.

"I-I'm so sorry. I'm just very nervous," Bob fumbled with his words.

Nick smiled, "It's all right, Mr. Fulton. We want to thank you for your time."

The three shook hands all around and Bob exited the interview room. Nick looked at Catherine with an innocent expression on his face. "Don't even say it."

Catherine smiled. "You've got a way with these people, Nicky. Must be all that ex-jock charisma."

* * *

Author's notes:

This is a transistional chapter. I had to cut it here or it would have made the next chapter way too long. Thanks to everyone for thier comments, they really do help an author. This story will have regular updates so there are no worries there.

A.Remains- You can breath now! Its good to see some of the "A Walk in the Woods" fans that havefound my new project. I hope you enjoy it! I'm always interested in your thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

_Catherine had her mouth open in shock at the outburst from someone she had pegged as timid. She glanced at Nick, who shot her his own confused, almost amused expression. Bob Fulton for his part was wringing his hands in front of him, the color in his face changing from red to white. _

"I-I'm so sorry. I'm just very nervous," Bob fumbled with his words.

Nick smiled, "It's all right, Mr. Fulton. We want to thank you for your time."

The three shook hands all around and Bob exited the interview room. Nick looked at Catherine with an innocent expression on his face. "Don't even say it."

Catherine smiled. "You've got a way with these people, Nicky. Must be all that ex-jock charisma."

* * *

Back at the lab both CSI's headed towards the break room. Catherine went to one of the cabinets and grabbed a bottle of aspirin and two tablets. She then filled up a cup of water and went over to Nick who was slouching in one of the empty couches, his eyes closed.

"Take these," Catherine commanded, and the other CSI accepted the offered items.

"Thanks." He replied, draining half of the water and swallowing the medicine.

Catherine was about to make another comment when David came bounding into the room. "Hey guys, I've been looking for you."

David handed Catherine a sheet of paper he was carrying. "I've got your tox screen back on Walter Davis."

Catherine looked at the offered report. "Yeah, David. Anything interesting?" She didn't have to ask the assistant coroner, he wouldn't be searching for them if it wasn't important to the case.

David smiled. "Yeah, he tested positive for androgenic steroids."

Nick walked over to the duo, finishing the rest of his glass of water. " David, that's not abnormal. A lot of these muscle men like to improve their performance. Build up mass and all that."

David looked at the CSI. "Yeah, I know that. But this guy was taking something like 200 times more than the normal dose."

Nick looked shocked. "What?" He retrieved the report out of Catherine's hands and scanned the results. "According to this he had 2000 milligrams of Parabolan." Nick shot Catherine an astonished expression, shaking his head.

Catherine folded her arms across her chest. "OK, that sounds like a lot. You want to clue me in some more?"

Nick nodded, knowing he was carrying on with a subject that his boss was unfamiliar with. "Androgenic steroids are prescription only. Athletes use them to stimulate higher levels of blood so they can increase output of the liver, lungs and kidneys. Stuff like that."

Catherine nodded.

Nick continued with his lesson. "The results from taking steroids in cycles is increased muscle mass and higher levels of energy when needed. At the levels he was taking he must have been trying to muscle up very quickly or was pumping himself up almost on a daily basis. Then you also risk serious damage to your body. Decreased sex drive, liver, kidney damage, insomnia, mood swings, so called 'roid rage', nose bleeds, muscle tears."

Catherine tried to digest all the new information. "You said this stuff is only by prescription. Who would have access to large amounts of steroids?"

Nick clicked his lower jaw. "And who would benefit? The gym would be a perfect source of people who would want some of this stuff."

Catherine arched an eyebrow. "You know Roger Sikes is a very big boy. Could be the type of guy to be using this stuff heavily. He's short tempered and oversees all the operations of the gym."

"He'd be the perfect dealer," Nick summed up.

Catherine shook her head, speaking sarcastically. "Who would have thought we'd find a connection between a gym and steroids. It might not have anything to do with the case, but it's an interesting lead."

David, who had remained to listen in on the discussion, laughed. "Steroids do have some useful medical applications. They help put muscle mass back on AIDS patients, and even the protein power shakes Nick here drinks are a form of steroids."

Nick rolled his eyes. "I also follow a healthy diet with those, mind you."

Catherine snickered. "Please Nick. None of us eat right around here." She held out her hand to cut his protest off. "When's the last good meal you ate this week?"

Defeated, Nick tilted his head to his side in acquiescence. During their discussion Jim Brass walked into the break room.

The Detective held out a file as if it held some secret contents as he rocked back and forth from his heels to the balls of his feet. He had that playful look about him, which only meant he had interesting news.

"What's up, Jim?" Catherine asked him, intrigued by his arrival.

Jim fiddled with his own set of files, "I did a little digging in all the employee files that were provided to us, and then I hit the phones and some of the newspapers."

"And..." Catherine asked.

"It would seem that almost everyone who works at Gold's Gym all went to the same high school. Michelle Wilson was head cheerleader; Brian Olsen and Walter Davis were on the baseball team." Jim looked over at Nick. "Your buddy Roger Sikes was head of the football team, and it goes on and on."

"One little happy family," Nick said, glancing on the files. "We're talking about personnel that have known each other for a long time. Interesting."

"What's interesting is that a few months ago a Mike Ross was killed in a car accident a few miles form the Gym; and he was not only co-captain of the same football team of Roger Sikes, but he was the first member of the gym."

"You got the autopsy report on Ross?" Catherine asked, her mind racing in several directions.

"Sure do." Jim handed another folder to Catherine as Nick continued scavenging the rest of the staff reports from the gym.

Catherine read over the details. According to the report, Mike Ross had been driving his Lexus back home after working out. It had been very rainy, and there were reports of flashfloods. It was concluded that Mike loss control of his car and crashed into a telephone pole. Catherine skimmed through the autopsy results: typical head trauma, but with any case dealing with a fatality during a car accident, a tox screen had been run. Mike Ross had tested positive for androgenic steroids.

Catherine traded reports with Nick and he read over the results. Mike Ross showed early signs of liver damage from the results of long term use of steroids. He had close to 1000 milligrams in his system, and the coroner had discovered track marks from injection sites.

"Something is definitely going on other than exercising at that place," Nick said, shaking his head.

"Yeah. Well..." Jim was about to add some additional insight when his cell phone rang. He answered it and walked to the other side of the room to get a little privacy while the others continued talking.

Catherine sat down on the couch that Nick had vacated and started running through things they needed to get done. She'd go over dayshift's reports and speak to whomever had worked on Mike Ross's case to see if there was any hint of foul play. She'd have Jim and Nick interview Roger Sikes about the improbability that he could've been swimming during the time that Walter Davis was killed.

Nick was still studying the results of the tox screen. He began wondering where the steroid sales and use fit into this puzzle. Maybe the tension between Walter Davis and Roger Sikes had nothing to do with the dating habits of Michelle Wilson. Nick decided that he should focus on the steroid use. Maybe one of the employees had access to a pharmacy; or even better, one of their clients could be a doctor.

Both CSI s were deep in thought when Jim returned from his phone call. "Now talk about interesting. That was Nancy Brookes, the receptionist that I interviewed. She really wants to talk to me about something pertaining to the case, but she can't come in till she gets off work."

"When is that?" Catherine asked.

"She said she'd be over around 11 p.m.," Jim replied, staring at his watch. "I spoke with the owner of the gym and she's sending Roger Sikes over here for his interview."

"I want in on that one," Nick spoke up.

Catherine gave him a warning look. "No more macho head butting."

Nick gave her an offended expression. "Now why would I be involved in anything like that?"

* * *

Nick and Jim sat across from Roger Sikes. The CSI was feeling a little better, as his headache seemed to have subsided with the copious amounts of aspirin he had taken. Hopefully after the interview he'd be able to grab a few minutes in an empty office to lay down. He couldn't remember this week when he had strung together more than three hours of sleep at a time. Maybe Catherine was right: he shouldn't have gone over to his gym to observe the swimmers at the pool. But then he wouldn't have any data to bunk Sikes' alibi.

Roger was wearing another pair of sweat pants and was sporting a long sleeved T-shirt. His muscles bulged under the tight cotton, but then again it was probably the point of wearing such a garment. Nick noticed that the man's eyes and skin color had a slight yellow tint. He hadn't observed this before, but then again they were in a well lit room now and Nick was looking for tale tell signs of steroid abuse.

Roger Sikes gave both men a smug smile. "You know, Stokes, I may have been wrong about you the other day. Maybe you could benefit from some of our faculties. I'd be glad to give you tips to improve your size. Maybe even bulk you up a bit more."

Nick sensed this new tact, and decided to follow along for a while, just to set the mood. Then he'd hit Ox-man with some serious questions. "Yeah, well, I think I do all right for myself."

Roger laughed as if they were having a casual conversation over dinner. "So, I take it you played ball in college?"

"Yeah, fourth string linebacker for Texas A&M."

"Hmmm, I'm guessing your glory days were mainly in high school, I'd imagine. You're a little too short to handle yourself in college."

Jim Brass for his part kept quiet, and let Nick and the muscle man trade verbal jabs for a while. He knew that Sikes was just trying to get a rise out of the CSI under the pretense of talking sports.

"I was busy playing on the baseball team, rushing for a fraternity and graduating at the top of my class for any serious time on the field," Nick shot back with a smirk.

"I guess not everyone can ride on a full sports scholarship like I did, I suppose," Sikes retorted with a thinly veiled sneer.

"But you're here and not on a pro team. What happened, Roger, couldn't reach your full potential?" Nick asked in a lower voice, his Texan accent a bit thicker.

Sikes laid his massive hands on the desk and tensed the muscles in his arms. "I'm in better shape now than I ever was. My full potential has been reached, while you continue to be an ex-jock wannabe."

Nick shook his head and decided it was time to steer the conversation back to the case. He leaned towards the suspect, his voice stern. "I know you're in excellent physical shape, but Roger. No one can swim 20 laps in under 60 minutes. Even Olympic swimmers can't keep that pace."

Roger Sikes seemed slightly taken aback from that statement. He straightened his massive frame till he was sitting perfectly upright in his chair. "I was swimming from 11 to midnight."

"You got anyone who can verify you were in the pool during that time?" Nick asked, not taking his eyes off the suspect.

Sikes leaned back in his chair. "Nope."

"But it's impossible for anyone to swim the amount of laps you claim you did," Nick pressed on.

"What we're saying here, just in case you can't connect the dots, is that you're lying, Mr. Sikes. You weren't in that pool during the time you claim you were," Jim chimed in, participating with his "bad cop" routine.

"Maybe I didn't take as many laps, as I said. Doesn't mean anything," Roger back-pedaled.

"Maybe? If I recall, you said you swim 20 laps every time you enter the pool. Which is it? Are you lying about being in the pool, or are you lying right now?" Nick asked, pressing his hands down on the desk as he stared Sikes down.

Roger leaned forward, matching the CSI's stare. "I don't recall. You can't prove it either way. Not that it matters; I had nothing to do with Walter's death."

"Maybe you don't. Do you by chance have anything to do with all the steroid use going on in the gym?" Nick asked, now inches away from the jock's face.

Roger Sikes was breathing heavily now; it looked all the world like he was actually trying to reign in his temper. "No, I don't have anything to do with steroids. What the hell does that have to do with Walter's death?"

Jim decided to start pushing his own buttons. He laid out tox screen reports on the table. "Maybe it's because Walter Davis tested positive for heavy amounts of steroids, and showed signs of chronic use. He's an employee of yours. What, you keep finger prints but don't run drug tests?"

Roger Sikes scrunched up his face, his eyes narrowed at both men. He remained quiet.

Jim decided to ante up. "We also know one of your ex-football buddies from high school was killed in a car accident a few months ago; he also tested positive for heavy steroid use. You know, it's illegal to be distributing or possess such things without a prescription."

"I don't touch that shit."

Brass looked at him pointedly. "Really? Never?"

Nick seemed to drag himself back into the conversation. "Would you volunteer to a blood test? Of course to verify your claim?"

Roger Sikes got up, pushing his chair out of the way. He seemed to tower above both investigators. "No, I won't."

Nick slowly rose from his seat. "Why's that?"

Roger placed his hands on the desk. "Because you want it. This has nothing to do with Walter's death. You're just fishing."

Nick tilted his head to the side and slowly nodded. "You're right, we can't make you give us a sample. But Michelle Wilson can."

Roger Sikes looked confused for a moment, and he bit down on his bottom lip. "What are you talking about?"

Nick gave him one of his million dollar smiles, knowing it would unnerve the guy. "She's the owner of the gym. And as one of her employees, you have to consent to a drug test whenever she requests it. Since I talked to her in advance, she agreed to signing a document ordering you to comply."

Roger Sikes walked around the table to where Nick stood, staring at the man coldly. Jim Brass got out of his chair as a precaution. The tension in the room was just a little too high for his comfort.

Nick however, continued to push the mammoth man's buttons. "So, what will it be? You going to pee in a cup here? Or should we wait for Michelle to come over with a signed document and you can do it for her instead?"

Roger Sike's face was grim, his squared jaw set. He looked down at the floor, as if he was weighing his options. Nick glanced over at Brass to gave him a nod, knowing they would get exactly what they wanted tonight. The Ox-man raised his head and shook it.

He looked at the CSI. "You're a real sonofabitch, you know?" Then he reared back his left fist and swung it at Nick's face.

Nick had quick reflexes and stepped away from the powerful swing. He then used the muscled man's own momentum to push him towards the wall, grabbed his right hand and yanked behind the jock's massive back. Nick kept Sike's arm pinned behind him as Jim rushed over to lend a hand as the tired CSI struggled to keep the brawnier man still. Two uniforms rushed into the room at the sound of the commotion.

Brass and the other officers had Roger Sikes handcuffed before Jim turned the man around and stared at him. "I warned you buddy. At least you saved your self a trip in the car. You're under arrest for attempted assault."

Nick watched Jim read the ape man his rights as Sikes cursed at both of them and demanded to see a lawyer. Nick watched this from the corner of the room, until he saw Catherine's serious expression staring at him from out in the hall. Knowing he was going to get lectured for egging the suspect on, Nick braced himself for a confrontation.

Catherine Willows did not seem happy. Nick was going to apologize but she cut him off with a deadly look. "We'll talk about this in a while. Right now we have another DB at Gold's gym."

Nick wasn't expecting that kind of news, and looked at his boss with a confused expression. "What? Who?"

Catherine crossed her arms in front of her. "It's Nancy Brookes, the receptionist who was coming down here later."

TBC...

* * *

Thanks to everyone that left me comments and feedback. Its a joy to know that people enjoy your work. I appreciate it very much!

Designation

I love your writing as well! You're very insightful and have that wonderful psychological edge to your work. Thanks for your comments, and the updates will always been regular

Cuddy Cabin

Thanks for your uplifting comments! There will be lots of chapter, about twice as many as Walk in the Woods. As far as Cath and Nick..well this is a friendship story. However, I've never rule out future story ideas. I'm thinking of tacking a little romance sometime soon.

sokerfreek922

Hehe, I can't give you any clues about the story, however I write angst, so no one is safe including out favorite CSI!

c1

Its good to see you again! As always I appreciate your feedback. I'm glad to know that my character interaction is realistic in this. As a writer my main goal is to be as true as possible. I tried a certain grouping of characters in my last fic and I wanted to try to give Cath a whirl in this one. I also enjoyed writing Brass in this.

mudhousejunkie

Thanks for your support. I hope this story meets your expeactions. There is more build up and I tired a little more complex plot. Hope you enjoy it.

P.L. Wynter

Hey again! Yes, Nick is my fav as well. Can you tell? There just not enough Nick centered stories, I'll try to help in that area!


	4. Chapter 4

Catherine crossed her arms in front of her. "It's Nancy Brookes, the receptionist who was coming down here later."

* * *

The ride back to Gold's Gym had been quiet. Catherine drove for once; Nick was content to be in the passenger seat for a change. His headache had returned in full force while his mind wrestled over the new turn of events. Motive never came before the evidence, but Nick knew Nancy Brookes' death had some connection to their investigation. She was coming down to the station for a reason, and whatever information she was going to share got her killed. Nick hadn't even spoke to the woman, yet his guilt was eating away at him.

Jim Brass was following them in another car. Nick wondered what thoughts were running through his head at the moment. The trio entered the building that had once again been cleared of all its guests. People milled around in the lobby, and the scene was too much like de déjà vu for the investigators involved. Michelle Wilson watched the CSI's approach, and this time she looked rattled by the death.

Nick and Catherine skipped out on the interview process and let Brass handle it. They could better spend their time processing the scene. They were guided by one of the officers into the sauna room, where Nancy Brookes lay fully dressed on the floor.

David was finishing up some note-taking, and looked at the criminalists. "Hey, guys. My preliminary COD is a broken neck. Until the autopsy, I won't know for sure if it was caused by something like a fall, or by a person."

"Thanks, David," Catherine replied as the coroner left.

Nick began photographing the position of the body, while Catherine scanned the ground for any evidence that may have been left. There were no signs of a struggle, which wasn't uncommon for a body dump.

Nick continued to take photos from various sides and angles. "Looks like whoever did this, didn't bother to try to make this look like an accident."

Catherine had canvassed the floor with her flashlight and had stopped a few feet away from the body. There appeared to be partial footprint on the tiled floor. She starting taking her own photos before trying to lift the print. "Well, no one comes in here with their clothes on. Not to mention this room wasn't even in use: it isn't as damp as it could be."

Nick had been relieved at that small wonder. The room was absent of the steam that usually occupied the area, but there was still an overwhelming dampness. Nick rubbed his forearm against his forehead, trying to wipe away the sweat that had been building there. After documenting the body, he began the process of looking for any trace evidence on the woman's clothes.

Nancy Brookes wore a flattering pink shirt that clung tightly to her and a pair of white shorts that showed off her long legs. This receptionist was a beauty, and it was always such a shame to have to study a body that was now just a shell. Nick felt himself falling into one of his moods. This was his job, to bring justice to the victims, to store his emotions away and remain objective. He was only human, though, and he felt the anger burn deep inside his chest. With grim determination he analyzed this poor woman, praying for any subtle clue as to her attacker's identity.

Her clothes were not hiding any loose fibers, no strands of human hair, but he did notice something and it made his heart beat faster. "Catherine, check out her finger nail."

Catherine knelt down in front of the victim's left hand and studied her well manicured nails. Each finger appeared soft and smooth, topped by red sculpted nails. All but her fourth finger, as it was broken. Catherine grinned. "Atta girl," she said to herself. She began to sift under the nail to remove what she hoped was the epithelial remains of her attacker.

Both criminalists continued scavenging for any nuance of the suspect, however there seemed to be nothing left. The coroner was called to remove the body and the search for clues went on, but still there was nothing. Catherine packed up her gloves and kit and stood up slowly, her knees popping from being crouched down too long. She rubbed a weary hand across her burning eyes. She needed to go home. They were only a couple of hours away from their much-needed sleep before they were called out back to the second scene. She exhaled heavily and turned her attention to her partner.

Nick was still placing items back into his pack. To anyone else, he looked like a calm scientist who was mulling over a case, carefully collecting his things. However, her experienced eye picked up that far and lonely distance in his vacant stare. His methodic way of gathering his equipment was marred by the clumsiness in which he did it. Just barely missing one of his rolls of tape, the slight tremor in his hands as he tucked other items away. When he stood, it wasn't to his full height; he was leaning forward as if he couldn't be burdened with standing. Nick Stokes looked at Catherine and for once didn't smile.

Sleep deprivation didn't solve cases. Catherine made a decision. They would drop off their findings and both of them would go home. Even if she had to get Warrick and Brass to manhandle her partner into his truck and drive him there. Both of them walked in silence back into the lobby in search of Brass. They saw the detective and he waved them into one of the offices.

Nick stood in the corner and Catherine sat in one of the leather chairs. Jim Brass was grim. His eyes were downcast, but his movements were energized by something.

"You got something." Catherine stated instead of questioned.

Jim cocked his head. "Found these in Nancy Brookes' desk."

Nick and Catherine moved closer to inspect what the detective was holding. Nick slipped on a latex glove and snagged the baggy from Brass's hand. He stared at the contents: at least twenty pills jiggled within the plastic baggy. He'd let the lab analyze it, but he knew they were steroids. Nick frowned and looked at his partner, his eyes locking with hers.

"We need to get a general search warrant for this place," he stated firmly.

"Yeah, I'll get one in the morning. I know a judge who'll have no problem issuing one," Jim replied.

"In the meantime, we need to close this place down. We're dealing with two homicides in two days. This staff is in danger, and we need to be able to conduct our investigation without having the scene compromised by day to day operations," Catherine explained. There was no doubting that the senior CSI would get whatever authority necessary to lock down Gold's Gym indefinitely.

"And done." Jim walked out of the room, already on his phone to get things accomplished.

* * *

The staff were allowed to leave after another round of interviews. Everyone had left with few complaints, except for Michelle Wilson, who was refusing to leave until she had her say in things. She stood outside in front of the entrance, busy yelling at the CSI's.

"Its bad enough that the weight room has been sealed off for the past two days, but shutting down this entire place will cost me more money in one day then you guys make in a month!"

Michelle had her hands on her hips, her eyes blazing like her volatile temper. Her face was flushed and he voice didn't seem like it was going to wear out any time soon from all the yelling she'd been doing for the past few minutes.

Catherine had about quite enough of the verbal abuse for one day. She gave Nick an exasperated expression and turned towards the fiery redhead. "Look, Ms. Wilson, screaming about this isn't going to change things. Two people have died here. I'd be more concerned for your staff's well being than your loss of income."

Michelle pursed her lips, seemingly at a loss for words. She gnawed on her bottom lip and began to speak in a calmer voice, but one laced with venom. "I've cooperated with you people. I've provided you with files, access to every part of this facility, even made my manager give you a drug test. All I've gotten from you people are false drug accusations, a smear campaign against my club, and you arresting one of my employees."

Captain Brass had wandered over to the trio. Michelle Wilson didn't seem like she was going to walk away soon. The owner crossed her arms. "By the way, I've arranged bail for Roger, he'll be getting out in the morning."

Brass intervened before either CSI could speak. "It doesn't really matter, Ms. Wilson. This is a crime scene. Also, your manager tried to assault a criminalist, and you're just going to have to deal with it. Now, if you'll just go home, so the rest of us can do our jobs?"

Some of the staff members were still huddled around. It was like some spectacle and Catherine really wanted to move on. "Since you're so interested in your employees' welfare, our detective will take care of informing Ms. Brookes' family about her death."

Catherine turned her back on the woman and began walking away. Nick stared at the owner in contempt at her lack of concern for one of her staff members. Blair Olsen and Bob Fulton walked over to the owner, each offering to escort her home. Neither criminalist waited around to observe the rest of the drama. They headed back to the lab to drop off their materials and for Brass to fill them in on what had to be a wonderful interview with Michelle Wilson.

* * *

The CSI's returned to the lab to fill out paper work and file away the photos from the scene. Catherine dropped off the shoe print off for analysis, and the samples from Nancy's finger nails at the DNA lab. Nick was busy typing up his summary of their collection as she then headed to the coroner to put a rush on the tox screen for the victim. Brass had filled both CSI's in on his interview with Michelle Wilson. The owner was getting dinner at the time the body was discovered. She had a receipt from a Chinese take out, with a time stamp.

Brass was going to confirm her time at the restaurant in the morning, but she was spotted all over the gym taking care of business before she went to eat. They had to wait for the autopsy to get a better idea of the time of death, but right now David was placing it between 10:00p.m. and 12:00a.m. Catherine ran into Jim in the hallway as she was leaving the coroner.

"When was the last time someone spotted Nancy? I mean, she _was_ the front desk receptionist," Catherine questioned him without preamble.

Brass flipped through his notebook. "She went for a break at 10:00p.m., and that was the last time anyone saw her."

Catherine mulled over the information. "Who saw her last?"

"Blair Olsen," Brass replied. "Roger Sikes was here at 11:30 p.m. And it's only a thirty minute drive to the station." The detective didn't hide his opinion on who he liked for these murders.

"Good. Well, we've got a ton of work waiting for us tomorrow." Catherine glanced at her watch: it was 4:00 a.m., and she and Nick needed to be back at noon for the start of another double. She was grateful that they might get to catch about six hours' sleep. The senior CSI would make sure that this time her partner didn't make any side trips to run experiments and get to bed.

As she headed towards the office Nick was stashed in to drag him home, Gil Grissom poked his head out of his office and silently summoned her in with a wave. Catherine sighed; she really didn't want to have a discussion right now. She entered Grissom's domain and remained standing.

Grissom was flipping through her case notes, peering at the reports through his reading glasses. He looked up at her, his face showing the fatigue from his own case. He swiveled in his seat silently.

"What is it, Gil?"

"I'm assigning Warrick to help you guys out tomorrow; you two could use the extra help," Grissom explained as he looked at Catherine, waiting for her reaction.

Catherine didn't expect that they would be getting any help. It wasn't unusual, but Warrick hadn't been involved in the case at all, and would require a lot of time to catch up. Fresh eyes on a case was always good, but was her supervisor double-guessing her and Nick's ability to work this case, she wondered.

"OK. Why?" The smallest accusation lingered in her tone.

Grissom removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This was a single murder that has morphed into a possible triple homicide. There's probable drug dealing going on and some very hostile suspects that the both of you are dealing with."

Catherine tried to read in-between the lines. "We're not dealing with a serial killer, Gil. I think we're dealing with someone who is very unhappy with the staff at this gym. Its probably a drug ring gone bad."

Grissom got out of his seat to perch himself on the corner of his desk, casually rubbing his chin. "No, it's not a serial killer, but this thing is escalating. I want you two to have some extra help. I'm not underestimating either of you. But you have one suspect who has all ready tried to assault Nick, and he's being released tomorrow morning. I think it would be better if Warrick was around to conduct any further interviews with that man."

"Nick is fine. He's been very professional throughout this investigation." Catherine stood up straighter, her voice defensive. She still hadn't discussed Nick's handling of Roger Sikes in the interview, but she wasn't about to let Grissom question her partner's objectiveness.

"I have no doubt in Nicky's procedures and conduct. I'm concerned about his ability to handle certain witnesses. We have to deal with the reality that one of the suspects has a beef with him. It's for the sake of the case, and how the DA will perceive any further clashes, as it is for Nick's possible safety."

Catherine blew out a breath. "I'm not arguing with you Gil. I'll be happy to have the extra help. Be sure Warrick gets all the reports so he's up to speed in the morning. And don't worry I'll talk to Nick about this so you don't have to," Catherine said, knowing the reason for their little meeting.

Truth be told, she was glad Warrick would be joining them, they could cover a lot more ground. They all worked well together; she would just have to make sure Nick didn't perceive this as some form of doubt over their handling of the case. She found Nick in one of the labs, fast asleep on one of the tables with his reports sprawled out in front of him. His head was laying on his arm, a pen still in his loose right hand.

Catherine walked up to him and gently placed her hand on his shoulder so as not to startle him. It didn't help: he nearly toppled over out of his chair as soon as she touched him. It was almost comical watching him try to keep his balance as he almost fell.

"Sorry, Nicky." Catherine laughed at his wide-eyed expression.

Nick stretched his back, finally chuckling to himself. "Sorry, Cath, just kind of dozed off."

"Let's go home."

"You bet." Nick shrugged off his lab coat.

Both CSI's got their things together so they'd be able to tackle this case as soon as they returned in the afternoon. Catherine would let Nick in on Warrick's new assignment while they walked to their cars.

* * *

Nick Stokes had been so exhausted when he dragged his body back to his townhouse that he didn't feel like eating. The CSI diet is what they called it. Long periods of time in between meals, overheated TV dinners or high energy sugar substances were the things gulped down when you got a spare moment. Nick scavenged through his refrigerator and found nothing that could be prepared in a quick fashion. He was too drained to even think about working around a stove, so he dialed his favorite pizza joint on speed dial and sacked out on the couch in time for a repeat of Sports Center.

He fell asleep on the couch and was awoken by the doorbell from the delivery guy. One had to be in awe of Vegas, as there were 24 hour joints all over the place. Nick got a plate out to eat his meal, but his stomach did a double flip at the thought of food. He forced himself to eat a couple of slices, but his irregular diet of late was doing numbers on his appetite. His dinner pretty much a waste, he put it in the fridge and headed for a long hot shower.

He had reacted to the news of Warrick's involvement in the case without any anger. They needed another person to bounce ideas off of, and he and Warrick worked well together. They even had tickets to a game next week, Nick hoped this case would be wrapped up by then.

Nick let the shower pound on him for over a half hour. The water was near scorching, but that was what he needed to ease all the aches he'd been feeling from today. Nick didn't even bother to use soap, he was too tired, and turned the water off to dry. He stepped out of the shower and wrapped one of the over sized towels around his waist. He wiped all the condensation off and then looked at himself in the mirror, knowing he had forgotten to shave. He leaned in more towards it when an overwhelming dizzy spell hit him. He slapped his hands on the bathroom counter to stop his fall, giving the lightheadedness time to fade away. He stayed leaning over his sink, his arms trembling slightly from keeping his weight up.

Nick shook his head. "Jesus," he whispered to himself. He'd better hit the hay or he wouldn't be any shape to work on the case effectively the next day. Nick crawled into bed, chastising himself for letting his body get so worn down. His room was pitch black from the heavy shades and curtains that he used to block out the light. It wasn't like he hadn't pulled doubles and triples in a row before. Nick glanced at the clock; he had five hours before he hit the time clock the next day. He only hoped there would be a few more breakthroughs tomorrow.

TBC...

* * *

Thanks again for everyone who has left comments. All your feedback reinforces my muse. I'll always write wantever I'm feeling during the time I drat out something, but I always keep past comments in my head to try improve my writing. Every piece of feedback is filed away. It helps to know that the things you set up come across in the story and that the little nuances the readers pick up on. Thanks again everyone.

Fan4fanfic

I try to balance the forensics side of the investigations, with character devlopment then add my own spice and chaos! I think Nick is a wonderful CSI and I'm glad you enjoy my portrayal of him.

groban

Nice to hear from you again! Its very exciting to hear that the suspence part is working. Its music to my ears. You crave Nick angst? Well...I'm not going to promise anything, but things do have to simmer for a while. Boy do I enjoy a nice long, gradual increase of stress.

rozzy07

Hey again. I want to say that was some of the best feedback I've gotten. Personaly, the way I like to write and what I like to read..are well fleshed out characters and chapters that build up. I wanted to try that with this story and I'm glad you like it. I hope this chapter, contiuned to wrack up the tension level. You know things getsometimes getvolatilewhen the tension keepscranking ...you know?

A.Remains

I did read that story, thanks for the rec. Glad you are enjoying the tension. Things are really getting a bit...well I'll stop dropping hints.

Designation

Hope this chapter was quick enough for you! Thanks for your contiuned support!

P.L. Wynter

Yes, odd things are going on. You should try your hand writing some CSI! I always encourage anyone to try to flex thier creative juices!


	5. Chapter 5

Catherine Willows and Warrick Brown headed to the morgue to get Doc Robbins' report on Nancy Brookes. The senior CSI really hoped they could pin point the time of death, but she knew in this type of science that it would be near impossible to narrow it down any more. Catherine wore a brown suit jacket and pants, with a red blouse. Her flat heeled dress shows echoed off the tile as she headed towards their destination.

Warrick Brown wore a black and gray patterned shirt with the top three buttons undone. His long black jeans almost hid his comfortable sneakers. He had punched in early to go over all of the case notes pertaining to the two homicides at the gym, and he still needed to follow up on the car accident that occurred a few months before. There had to be some missing link between the three deaths that was overlooked, besides the evidence of steroid abuse.

Warrick looked at his watch, noting that the third member of their team had not arrived yet. Nick was only twenty minutes late. He was sure Catherine noticed, but so far, she hadn't mentioned it. Doc Robbins was crouched over the body, peering though his glasses.

"Well, I know what your first question is, she died between 10 and 11 at night. She died from asphyxiation first." The doctor pointed to bruises that looked like finger marks around her throat.

"Strangulation? I thought she died from a broken neck?" Warrick leaned down to get a closer looked at the bluish marks around the victim's throat. "Wasn't your first vic strangled?"

Catherine nodded. "Yeah, then his windpipe was crushed by a barbell to make it appear like an accident."

Doc Robbins pulled out an x-ray and slapped it up on a lightbox. "Your victim was strangled and then had her neck snapped at the third vertebrae." The older man pointed to the damaged bone. "I'm not sure if your suspect wasn't just making sure she was dead, or he was experiencing a surge of violence."

"Like he was so caught up in the rage of choking her, that he went a step further," Catherine speculated.

Warrick grimaced. "Wasn't the fact she wasn't breathing enough of a clue for this guy?" He asked, disgusted.

Doc Robbins looked at both criminalists. "Maybe he just enjoys the act of violence."

"Got the tox report?" Catherine inquired, moving on.

"You should get it in the next hour; it's being rushed by Nick's request." The coroner turned his light box off and covered the victim back up with a sheet.

Catherine glanced at her watch. "We should get going. Brass is verifying Michelle Wilson's whereabouts from the Chinese place."

Both CSI's walked out of the morgue, eager to get to the DNA lab to see if the substance from under Nancy's finger nails had been identified. As they rounded a corner they saw Nick Stokes hurrying down the corridor.

"Hold on there, partner." Warrick held out his hands trying to slow his friend down before he plowed right into them.

Nick stopped, looking a bit sheepish about his tardiness. He was sporting a dark sleeved blue shirt and his usual dark colored chinos. His hair was somewhat styled in a hurry. Before he had a chance to rattle off an excuse for being late, Catherine cut him off.

"Why don't you and Warrick go to DNA to see if the fingernail substance has been ID'ed, and I'll catch up with Brass about our search warrant." Catherine wasn't going to mention anything about his lateness, since she knew how tired he'd been when he left for home.

Nick released a breath he had been holding. "Yeah, Okay. Thanks Cath."

* * *

He and Warrick entered the DNA lab, ignoring the punk rock that was blasting from the small stereo in the corner. Greg was bent over a microscope. Nick turned the music down so he could talk over it, instantly alerting the wild tech to their presence. 

Greg popped his head up. "Whatever you're here for, it's not done. I'm completely backed up from Grissom and Sara's case."

Nick gave the younger man an exasperated sigh, "Come, on G, you haven't gotten to our sample yet? Man, you're slipping."

"You can insult me all you want. I've got like thirty samples ahead of yours, and I'm being nice by trying to slip yours in somewhere in the middle."

"Yeah, like when?" Warrick asked.

"If you're real nice, I'd say in a few hours." Greg wandered back to his stereo. "And please don't turn off the Dead Kennedys, this CD is a classic."

"I thought Grissom had a rule against punk rock?" Warrick asked, knowing the tech would understand the underlying threat.

"Maybe I'll run your samples 'very' soon," Greg replied quickly, turning the music up again.

Warrick suppressed a grin. "Yeah, I thought so."

Both criminalists exited the lab only to run into Catherine again. She looked triumphant, holding her hands behind her back. "Pick a hand, each of you."

Jim Brass was right behind, allowing a slight smirk to warm his normally bland expression.

Nick and Warrick exchanged bemused glances, each not sure about this situation. Nick stepped up first. "I'll take whatever is behind curtain number one, or your right hand."

Catherine brought over her hand in a flourish, waving a warrant in front of his face. "Got a general warrant to search the gym top to bottom based on the pattern of drug use in each victim."

Warrick sighed dramatically. "Well than, I guess I get door number two, Bob."

Catherine slid a typed lab report into his hand. "Tox screen back on Nancy Wilson, also positive for steroids. She had a little less, about 500 milligrams, but it's still way over the limit."

Nick snorted, "Yeah, fifty times. What are these people doing over there? They each trying to become King Kong?"

Warrick scanned the report. "Better question is, who's providing this stuff for them?"

Jim Brass chimed in. "And if Nancy Brookes was using, was she coming over here to spill the beans on the operation?"

"All good questions gentlemen; let's head over there and find out." Catherine reigned in her troops and they all headed to the parking lot to inspect the gym.

* * *

The trio of CSI's waited outside as Jim Brass cut away the crime scene tape that sealed the doors closed. The private club had been shut down quickly, so the team hoped that the staff was ushered out so that incriminating items would have been left behind. It also gave them a chance to go over other areas of the club in search for the original crime scenes, since they had determined that the weight room and sauna were dump sites. 

Catherine had split the club into sections. She would take Michelle Wilson and Roger Sikes' offices. Warrick would canvass the employee break room, locker room and Nick would inspect the physical therapy room and pool area. The main work out rooms that held classes and yoga areas were ruled out, since hours before the time of death each area was occupied with multiple exercise enthusiasts.

Jim Brass decided to stick around to help out in any way he could since the criminalists had to cover so much ground in the gym. He was glad that he wasn't involved in the Sheriff's pet project case, but this crime scene was going to be a doozy to go over. They'd be lucky if they completed their search by the end of their regular shift, and it was already going to be another double by the looks of things.

Nick walked through the weight room where Walter Davis had been found and entered the physical therapy room. It was located at the back of the gym, away from all the main work out areas. Nick put his kit down and scanned the room. There were a couple of massage beds to the left where one went to get stiff muscles loosened. To the right was a whirlpool, and row of lockers were flush against the wall across from it. Then past the lockers was a door to a hallway that he thought led outside, and in the corner were mats and several weights used in therapy to strengthen muscles.

Nick had been in one of these rooms before several times during high school, and in college when he had torn muscles or sprained one thing or another. It smelled like antiseptic and the room was too bright from the strong lights overhead. He decided he'd check out the lockers first to see what might be lurking inside, since he had been given a string of keys belonging to this room. The lockers were usually set aside for visitors, and not for staff, but it would help narrow their scope. He was pretty sure they were dealing with an inside job, but there was still a chance that a regular visitor was involved... given the fact that one of the victims had been a member and had died under mysterious circumstances.

Nick slipped on a pair of latex gloves and set about opening the first locker at the beginning of the row. It opened to reveal a set of white towels, some ace bandages and a pair sweat pants. He rummaged though them, searching for prescription bottles or anything out of the ordinary. The locker smelled musky, and even though he had endured much more vicious odors before, it was not settling well with his stomach. Even though he had caught over five hours sleep, it was too little too late and he felt terrible. He stifled a yawn and wished he had eaten a little more than a frozen waffle for his breakfast. His energy level was beyond fumes, but he'd find a way to stay clear minded, he always did. Sleep deprivation was part of the job sometimes, and he'd find a way to catch the even the smallest details and put this puzzle together.

He continued to open each locker, using his light to illuminate the darkened areas. It was quiet in the room, the only noise coming from the sound of the swirling water from the whirlpool. The soft buzzing sound seemed to be lulling Nick into a zone as each locker brought him closer to the source. He opened the last locker, which looked like a bomb had went off in it. There were magazines piled high on one shelf, and tons of dirty towels piled down at the bottom. There was a mirror that had several cracks in it, from what appeared to be the impact of a fist. Nick clicked his jaw thoughtfully; he had smashed in a few mirrors in his time.

It wasn't always the brightest idea, but it certainly blew off steam when your temper was at a boiling point. He recalled a few cases when the bloody and lifeless faces of so many victims had gotten to him. This was a frustrating job; sometimes the evidence didn't point you in the right direction and you had to mull over its meaning. Nick knelt down to dig deeper into the mess of towels. The locker door's shadow cast the interior into darkness, and Nick held onto the side of the door with his right hand while he sifted though the laundry with his light in his left hand. As he used his flashlight to cast its rays inside, he felt the metal hit something.

Nick switched the light into his right hand and picked up a gallon sized zip lock bag filled to the brim with pills. For the first time that day he allowed himself a wide smile. He could lift prints easily from plastic. He held in his hand the first very real break in the case. He glanced down at the two way radio clipped to his belt, carefully set the bag down, and was about to grab it to alert the others to his findings when felt a tight grip on his shoulder.

Before he could react he felt himself driven inside the locker, his forehead connecting hard with the metal interior with a sickening 'crack'. Nick's vision grayed out and the radio dropped from his hand, clattering down on the tile floor. Two hands now gripped both of his shoulders, yanked him out of the locker, then one hand repositioned itself in his shirt collar before he was rammed into the door of the next locker. He hadn't even had a chance to stand, as he was still in a somewhat crouched position, and no way in control of his legs at the moment. His forehead was slammed against the locker door again, his head exploding in pain.

Still stunned and reeling from the blows to his head, he was easily manhandled to the right, and literally forced to stumble wherever his assailant was forcing him to go. Nick was only on his feet for the briefest of moments as he was pushed towards the whirlpool. He almost fell before reaching the tub, and he was pulled up by his shirt, his attacker remaining behind him, hidden from view.

Nick was shoved forward till his legs and waist collided with the edge of the whirlpool. Realization of what was happening seeped into his fuzzy mind. With his free right hand, he reached down for his gun holstered to his belt, but as his fingers touched the handle, his arm was quickly yanked behind his back. His assailant had a tight grip on his right wrist, and it was being pulled high and pinned somewhere between his shoulder blades.

He yelped as if felt like his arm was popped out of his socket. His left hand was gripping the side of the tub as the attacker was trying to plunge him into the water. He was being overpowered, and his head was still pounding from a concussion, blood dripping down his face from multiple contusions caused by the locker's vents. It was a wonder he was still conscious. Knowing what was going to happen, Nick did the only thing left in his power, he screamed for help.

TBC...

* * *

Author's notes: I'm overwhelmed by the postive response for this story. Thank you for all the nice feedback. Sorry for where this part has left you guys. I'm evil I know. Good things come to those who wait though, but honestly, the next chapter would be too long if I did not stop the action where it was. 

P.L. Wynter-

I'd always planned on bringing Warrick in this story. I can't resist scenes between him and Nick. Greg as you know is a favorite and he plays a role in this story as well. You must have ESP :-)

sabrina

Thanks for all the nice comments. Glad you liked Walk in the Woods. This is nothing mysterious wrong with Nick, however, under extreme stress and pressure and less than three hours of sleep for almost a week, while working 12+ hours, can cause one to become unhealthy if they don't take care of themselves properly, or get enough rest. I think he has more problems to deal with as a result however :-)

jewelbaby

This is not a shipper. I mentioned in the chapter one that this was friendship story. I would not mind writing some romance in the future however.

mudhousejunkie

You are very sweet. Thank you for the encouragement, its nice to see that others are excited about something you plotted way at for over a month.

rozzy07

You truely compliment me with such kind words. Thank you very much. I'm glad you like the pace, it was something of a focus of mine. And the tension is cranked up yet another notch. I'm writing...actualy another story since this one is complete. Ha! Just letting people catch up on chapters.

Designation

Hehe, yeah Sikes is quite an ass. Michelle isn't far behind..snicker. Hey, hope this was fast enough for you. Thank you as always.

ner

I agree, with you. Never enough Nick screen time. Thanks to my DVDS, I get a good fix. The future chapters will contain a decent amount of high emotion, just you wait. Thank you for you kindness.

c1

Yeah, I hope the reader catche on, how really tired both our CSIs really are. For science geeks, they sure don't pay attention to thier personal surroundings. Thank you thank you for you feedback. Glad you're having a fun reading.


	6. Chapter 6

_  
_Nick switched the light into his right hand and picked up a gallon sized zip lock bag filled to the brim with pills. For the first time that day he allowed himself a wide smile. He could lift prints easily from plastic. He held in his hand the first very real break in the case. He glanced down at the two way radio clipped to his belt, carefully set the bag down, and was about to grab it to alert the others to his findings when felt a tight grip on his shoulder.

Before he could react he felt himself driven inside the locker, his forehead connecting hard with the metal interior with a sickening 'crack'. Nick's vision grayed out and the radio dropped from his hand, clattering down on the tile floor. Two hands now gripped both of his shoulders, yanked him out of the locker, then one hand repositioned itself in his shirt collar before he was rammed into the door of the next locker. He hadn't even had a chance to stand, as he was still in a somewhat crouched position, and no way in control of his legs at the moment. His forehead was slammed against the locker door again, his head exploding in pain.

Still stunned and reeling from the blows to his head, he was easily manhandled to the right, and literally forced to stumble wherever his assailant was forcing him to go. Nick was only on his feet for the briefest of moments as he was pushed towards the whirlpool. He almost fell before reaching the tub, and he was pulled up by his shirt, his attacker remaining behind him, hidden from view.

Nick was shoved forward till his legs and waist collided with the edge of the whirlpool. Realization of what was happening seeped into his fuzzy mind. With his free right hand, he reached down for his gun holstered to his belt, but as his fingers touched the handle, his arm was quickly yanked behind his back. His assailant had a tight grip on his right wrist, and it was being pulled high and pinned somewhere between his shoulder blades.

He yelped as if felt like his arm was popped out of his socket. His left hand was gripping the side of the tub as the attacker was trying to plunge him into the water. He was being overpowered, and his head was still pounding from a concussion, blood dripping down his face from multiple contusions caused by the locker's vents. It was a wonder he was still conscious. Knowing what was going to happen, Nick did the only thing left in his power, he screamed for help.

* * *

Nick was able to let out a yell before a hand forced his head into the water. Nick opened his eyes to only see blurry colors of gray and silver from the inside walls of the tub. He had used what little breath he had to scream for help and now his air had been cut off. His head felt like it was going to explode and he tried to use his left hand to push back against his assailant. However a very strong hand was keeping his head submerged in the swirling waters. Nick tried to free his right hand, hoping that with the use of both arms he would be strong enough to break free, but his attacker was only forcing his right hand further along his back; it felt like his shoulder was being ripped off.

He wanted to howl in pain, the agony from his head and arm competing with his lungs that were beginning to starve from lack of oxygen. Knowing he was losing his battle, he lashed out with his left arm, releasing his death grip on the tub. Being pinned like he was, it didn't really do any good as he tried to buck up and slam his fist into the body over him. Nick was only able to land a glancing blow, barely brushing against his foe. So, he used what little strength was left and scratched at his attacker. He felt his nails slice at flesh, then he grip the tub again as he contiuned to struggle against his assilant. Once he had let go of the whirlpool, his attacker had repositioned himself. Nick felt the suspect dig a knee into the small of his back, pinning the CSI's lower body against the tub.

The rim of the whirlpool dug painfully into Nick's diaphragm, forcing out what small amount of air he had left. Nick felt his limbs tingling, and the inside of his head felt as if it was a pressure pot about to explode. Unable to take in any air, his body betrayed him in a desperate effect to suck in oxygen, and he breathed in water. Nick squeezed his eyes shut as his struggles got weaker. He tried to kick at the perp's legs to trip him, but his attacker remained rooted behind him. Nick screamed in his head, yelling curses at his lack of strength, for letting himself get too run down to properly defend himself. One of the last thoughts through his mind was that he didn't even get a look at who was trying to kill him. Then after several moments his body slackened. The CSI's feet slipped beneath him, his knees dangled above the floor.

Nick's attacker held him firmly against the tub for a few more seconds. The suspect's hand never let up the pressure on both his twisted arm and submerged upper body. The suspect jiggled Nick's neck, watching his head bobble in the water. Knowing that time was of the essence, the assailant released the prone man and watched as the criminalist slid to the side and crumpled to the floor. The attacker kicked him once and seemingly satisfied, he took the CSI's gun. The perp paused a moment at the open locker and grabbed the bag of pills and quickly ran out the door leading to the outside.

* * *

Jim Brass had been helping Catherine inspect drawers and roam through file cabinets. He had several years on the job working with crime scene investigators and led the unit a few years before. He knew what to touch and what not to. Handling evidence had never really been a problem. However, he had contributed all that he could without being in the way. The office was small, so he had set search for the pool area to maybe give Nick a hand.

He walked down the hallway glancing around. He stopped outside the weight room, having not memorized the layout of the facility as of yet. He stared at the door, trying to decide if he should go ahead inside and have a look around when he heard a noise.

Jim stood in front of the door listening to his surroundings. With three CSI's running around, who knew what things they were doing. His instincts told him that what he had heard was a scream, but in this area of the gym it sounded more like a muffled voice or a yelp perhaps. He headed inside the room listening for any more sounds, but heard only silence. It was only a brief noise, and he wasn't quite sure where it originated from except further into the facility.

Jim picked up his pace, keeping his hand near his hip where his gun was resting. He came across another door and looked up at the sign above it. Physical therapy room; he knew Nick was in there and he opened the door to see if the criminalist had heard the noise or if the detective could chalk it up to an over active imagination.

The detective blinked several times as he entered the overlit room. He scanned the area, looking for his colleague, when he saw the body of the CSI sprawled on the floor near the whirlpool.

Jim Brass grabbed his gun and quickly searched the room for a suspect. He wanted to head straight for his fallen friend, but he needed to secure the room first. He canvassed the open area, checking behind the door, around the lockers and finally out in the hallway leading out of the room. Satisfied that there wasn't anyone lurking around, he grabbed his CB radio and ran over to Nick Stokes' unmoving body.

Jim's heart was beating a mile a minute as he spoke into his two radio, which would be picked up by a police operator as well as his coworkers still in the building. "This is Detective Jim Brass requesting immediate back up and medical assistance at 1200 Brown Lane at Gold's Gym. Officer down, I repeat officer down."

Jim dropped his radio down on the floor and quickly checked the CSI for a pulse. "Dammit!" He cursed when he felt nothing under his fingertips.

Jim Brass rolled Nick onto his back, shaking his head furiously when he saw that the criminalist's chest was perfectly still. "Don't do this, Nicky!" he yelled as he pinched the CSI's nose and began breathing air into his lungs.

Jim went over and crossed his hands together. He counted down a certain number of ribs, placed pressure on the younger man's chest and began pumping his heart. He kept repeating in his head his medical traning. Two breaths and15 compressions, echoed in his head

"Catherine! Warrick! I need help in here," he yelled, hoping that the other CSI's were running towards them. As much as he didn't want them to see one of their own in this state, he desperately needed help to save Nick's life.

* * *

Catherine Willows was on a chair in Michelle Wilson's office trying to search for anything out of the ordinary on one of the book shelves. She had one of her gloved hands feeling for any items hidden on top when the static of her radio interrupted the silence of the room.

When she heard Jim Brass's request for backup and medical assistance, her adrenaline surged through her and she jumped down from the chair. When she heard the words, "Officer down," her heart ran cold. Catherine stormed out of the room, grabbing her two way radio.

"Jim, this is Catherine, where are you?" she yelled into it as she ran down the hall.

Catherine didn't know who was hurt, and the panic that gripped her chest was causing her to stumble almost blindly through the building. She yelled into the radio a few more times, without a reply. The silence only made her more desperate to find the detective. She grabbed her gun in one hand, wielding the radio in the other. If there was a need for back up, she was going to be prepared. She ran towards the employee locker area, when the door to that room swung open violently and someone headed towards her.

Catherine trained her gun, only to point it to the floor when a very worried Warrick Brown almost collided with her in the hallway.

"Catherine!" he yelled. Warrick was breathing hard and locked eyes with his coworker. "What's going on?"

Catherine saw the concern in his dark eyes and shook her head. "I don't know. We need to find Jim."

Relived to find Warrick all right, the senior CSI could only worry about where her other partner might be.

Both criminalists seemed to be thinking the same dire thoughts. Warrick grabbed Catherine's shoulder. "Nick's in the physical therapy room, right?"

Catherine nodded and tried to pull herself together. Neither of them said a word as they raced down the hallway in search of Jim Brass and Nick Stokes. As they rounded a few more corners, they heard the older detective screaming for them to come and help him. Neither of them were prepared for what was going to happen as they bolted into the room.

* * *

Catherine and Warrick burst in and saw Jim Brass giving CPR to Nick beside the whirlpool. Catherine ran over towards the balding detective and instantly went into command mode, pushing down the fear of seeing someone she cared about lying motionless on the floor.

She went to her knees besides Nick's head. "I'll breathe, you do compressions."

Brass obeyed and scooted down. He waited for Catherine to adjust Nick's head and she covered his mouth with her own. She breathed air in, forcing Nick's chest to rise and fall. Jim waited for her to give one more breath, then he gave fifteen chest compressions.

Warrick squatted on the floor, staring wide-eyed at the unfolding drama. He cupped his chin with his hand, gritting his teeth so hard it was a wonder he didn't chip a tooth. He felt completely helpless as his colleagues administered life saving procedures. He readied himself to step in, just in case Jim or Catherine tired out.

Nick's eyes were closed, his skin was losing color, becoming more pallid as the seconds ticked by. There was a trail of blood down the side of the whirlpool. Warrick eyed its waters, tinged pink with suspicion, piecing together his partner's wet hair and face. Someone strong had overpowered his friend and drowned him. Nick Stokes was no lightweight; vibrant and quite capable of taking care of himself. Warrick fumed quietly by.

"Come on Nick!" he yelled encouragement to his friend as his colleagues continued to work on him.

Catherine felt her own lungs screaming; she felt slightly lightheaded, breathing hard for her friend. She glanced at Warrick, his brilliant green eyes pleading with her to save Nick's life. Her own mind was screaming the same thing. She waited for Jim to deliver more compressions; she heard the older man grunt "13... 14... 15."

Jim was sweating from the exertion, but he didn't care. He waited his turn, one more round of breathing, then back to his trying to start the CSI's heart. He began pressing down where he was trained when he heard a popping sound.

"Good God. I think I just broke one of his ribs!" he grunted in surprise. Brass felt moisture welling up in his eyes; this was not how it's supposed to happen!

"Move your hands over an inch and keep going," Catherine encouraged. A cracked rib would be one of the least of Nick's concerns.

The detective glanced over at Warrick. "'Rick, go outside and meet the ambulance. Guide them back here so they don't waste time trying to find us. Let the other units know it's clear to come in here," he panted breathlessly.

The detective saw the look of stubbornness on Warrick Brown's face: the grim absolute refusal to leave his best friend's side. But Jim glared meaningfully at the other criminalist and he knew that the man got the message.

Catherine bent down to breathe in more air, when she saw Nick's body jerk.

"Wait!" Catherine held Nick's face in her hands when he started to cough and sputter. "Jim, turn him to his side so he doesn't choke. I'll try to keep his neck stabilized."

Nick was rolled onto his right side as he began to throw up water. He coughed violently while harshly trying to suck in air. The CSI hacked and gasped, expelling fluid from his lungs.

"Jim, roll him carefully onto his back now." Catherine kept Nick's head aligned with his spine. She knew from the department's rescue training that stabilizing the neck was vital when there were signs of head trauma.

Jim Brass sat numbly on the floor, allowing a brief moment to compose himself. His arms trembled from the exertion of performing CPR and he caught Warrick staring at the three of them. Jim wordlessly looked at Warrick, his expression commanding the other CSI to go find the EMT's. Warrick ran out the door, obviously relieved to be leading a medical team back to a breathing Nick Stokes, albeit, still injured in more ways than one.

The CPR efforts got the CSI's circulation flowing again. His head was cut up pretty good and the wounds were bleeding profusely. Catherine wiped away the small amount of tears that had escaped. After several more minutes of gathering up her turbulent emotions, she looked over at Brass. "Can you find something to staunch this blood? Also, we need to find a blanket, he's in shock."

Jim got up, happy to have something to put his mind to, and searched the room for something to warm to drape over the criminalist. Knowing that this was now a crime scene, he slipped on a pair of latex gloves that he always kept in his coat pocket, and found several towels lying on a counter in the corner. He brought the items back and covered up Nick with the bigger one. Jim handed Catherine the cleanest looking towel.

Catherine moved her hand over to Nick's face and began brushing away the wet, limp strands of hair that were matted to his forehead. She pressed the towel down on the bleeding wounds, careful of the swelling. She bit down on her lip, trying to squelch the anger that was now rising inside her and quickly overpowering the desperation and fear.

Catherine sat there, the tension in her body becoming more palpable, until she heard the commotion of several people as they bounded through the doors to the room. Warrick was close behind two medics and several police officers.

Jim Brass walked over to the officers to fill them in on what happened while trying to keep them at the entrance, so as not to contaminate the scene any further than it all ready was. As he briefed his officers, several pairs of eyes gazed over his shoulder, obviously upset on an attack of one of their own.

Warrick crouched down next to Catherine as the medics hurried over to their patient. Warrick was tense, still in shock at what had just transpired. Nick was still unconscious, the blood seeping through the once crisp white towel that Catherine continued to press down on.

The lead medic, who Warrick had greeted at the entrance and gave the clear signal to enter, was younger, maybe in his late twenties. His name tag read Chase, and he looked over at Catherine. "How long did you perform CPR? Has he been lucid at all?"

"We did CPR for three or four minutes, I'm not sure. He hasn't woke up at all," Catherine explained rather shakily.

Jim Brass had wondered over, "I broke one of his ribs. Heard it pop, when I was doing chest compressions."

The other medic was reporting on his radio the status of their patient as Chase checked Nick's pulse and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm. "Pulse's 144, BP 80 over 58." He stated to the other EMT. Chase then applied a large bandage to Nick's head.

Chase looked at the other EMT, "Start lactated Ringers wide open."

Chase placed a pulse-oximeter on one of Nick's fingers and looked at the readout, "Saturation's at 93, I'm going to give him oxygen." The medic placed the oxygen mask over Nick's nose and mouth and turned to the other EMT. "Keep suction ready just in case he vomits more water."

The two medics then wrapped a cervical collar around Nick's head and had him strapped to a spinal board.

Warrick began following the gurney, and one of the EMT's glanced up at him. "Sir, you'll have to follow in your own car."

Nick was wheeled into the hall. Catherine was torn between going with him and staying on the scene to process it. Warrick's face was a grim mask, his mouth forming a straight line. He studied the senior CSI, knowing the difficult decisions she was trying to make. Both investigators didn't see Brass talking on his phone, and he flipped his cell off as he made his way to their sides.

"I just talked to Grissom. He says for the two of you to go to Desert Palm and he'll meet you there. My boys'll keep the scene secure until we can get another team out here."

Catherine didn't say a word. She wasn't sure if she agreed with her boss's decision, or was relived by it.

Jim looked at her. "He wants Warrick to interview Nick, when he can." The detective turned to the other CSI. "You'll need to process him, see if there is any trace on his clothes... document any injuries." Jim spoke in a low voice, his tone almost regretful.

Warrick swallowed. He knew that he'd have to photograph any marks or bruises. Grissom knew that, even though he and Nick were close, that the injured CSI would feel more comfortable around him than anyone else. Warrick turned to his stunned colleague, took her hand in his and looked in her eyes. "Let's go."

Catherine absently nodded and both of them left, knowing that the scene could wait.

TBC...

* * *

Author's notes:

I wanted to thank my wonderful beta Kris for all of her hard work and constant feedback sessions we had on this chapter. Without her help this section would not have been possible. Also thank again to all the people who have been supporting this story, I keep repeating myself, but it means a lot!

I wanted to post this the other day, but I knew was going through some data issues and had to wait.

rozzy07-

I'm sorry about giving your poor ticker a scare, seems to be the nature of my writing. Of course I don't know how this entire story is going to effect you from now on. I'm going to be just slightly evil from now on.

sabrina-

Its in the nature of some writers to end chapters at exciting parts of the story, yes. :-) However, we have to end them somewhere...its just to keep the reader on high alert. The end of this one is not as bad I hope.

PL Wynter-

Again that ESP. Yep Catherine is there to help out the poor lamb...poor Nicky, he's in for a few rough days ahead.

A.Remains-

I hope this chapter was a good answer to all of your questions. Always good to hear from you, your enthuasim is so infectious.

Groban

Thank you again for your kind words. I do write these stories ahead of time, so that everyone can get reguar updates. Just enough time to drive everyone crazy, but fast enough to take care of everyone's fix!

Jewelbaby

Thank again.l With all the angst I wrtie, I'm sure I'll do a little one off here and there. Can't be so mean to my favorite CSI all the time.

StarespCat-

Thanks! Here you go.

Designation

I love Warrick! The only good thing to come from the split in shifts are the constant scene between Nick and Rick. I'm working on another story that focuses on them since I adore writing them together so much. Writing actiojn can be a challenge to try to balance good fast paced sections that are not cheesy. Glad you enjoyed the rush, this chapter kicked it up a notch again I hope.

mudhousejunkie-

Thanks for all the comments. I like the angst as well, but I really wanted to flesh out the plot and chracterss in this fic, it makes the exciting parts stand out that much more I think. I love action, but in my opnion you care more about the characters if you spend a bit more time with them.

cl-

Screaming does help. Glad you liked it!


	7. Chapter 7

Catherine Willows sat in a hard, uncomfortable plastic chair. Warrick stood against the opposite wall, his scowl almost a permanent expression since the car ride to the ER. He absently glared at the doors concealing their colleague. Every once in a while he mumbled a curse or breathed hard through his nostrils. He hated waiting for news of any kind, but when it pertained to the well being of a good friend, it just made him even more irritable. He wanted to hit something, preferably the man who had done this.

Warrick's dark musing was interrupted by the sounds of footsteps. Gil Grissom approached his CSI's, Sara Sidle close on his heels.

Catherine rose out of her chair, as if standing to attention. She searched her supervisor's face for accusation... for any signs of her culpability. Gil looked back at her, his reading glasses reflecting the harsh light of the hallway. Grissom appeared years older than he was, an unnatural weariness in his movements.

"What happened, Catherine?"

The lead CSI on the case almost wilted under such a simple question. She returned her boss's even look, and managed to keep her voice steady. "I don't know, Gil. We were each processing sections of the scene. We heard an officer down call from Jim, and when we entered the physical therapy room, we found Brass giving Nicky CPR."

Sara was listening intently, glancing every once in a while at the same doors that held Warrick's intense gaze. "We heard that this was a near drowning?"

Warrick crossed his arms in front of him, his eyes blazing. "Nothin' near about it. Someone beat the hell out of him and held his head in the whirlpool. We don't know all the details yet."

Catherine interrupted. "Considering all the blood on his head, he was probably hit numerous times. Hopefully he saw his attacker and can ID him." Catherine's voice held a tight edge to it.

Sara looked at the other woman. "We should get a guard here. The suspect will find out that he didn't accomplish the deed."

"What we need to do is process the scene. Get some evidence to nail this bastard," Catherine growled.

Grissom shook his head. "No, Sara and I will go back to the scene. You two are too close to this."

"No way Gil," Catherine scowled, stepping closer to him.

"Hell no," Warrick replied, stepping next to Catherine.

Both CSI's were creating a united front. Catherine felt her the anger she had been holding in welling up inside her. She needed an outlet, and unfortunately for Grissom, he presented a perfect opportunity. "You and Sara are already on a high profile case. This is my responsibly. I was lead on this and I'm sure as hell not turning this over to you."

Warrick looked at his boss fiercely. "We're all part of the same unit, Grissom. Catherine and I can handle this. We can stay objective..."

"Calm down everyone." Grissom held out his hands, trying tosettle them.

All four criminalists were so busy debating protocol and emotional attachments that they didn't hear the approach of one of the emergency room doctors. An older woman with short blonde hair cleared her throat in an attempt to get their attention.

"Excuse me."

All of them turned to her direction, each face a mirror of the other.

"I'm Doctor Price, I'm the one in charge of Mr. Stokes' care."

"How is he?" Warrick asked first, beating everyone else to the punch.

The doctor meet the intense gazes of the four criminalists. "He didn't suffer any life threatening injuries. He sustained a concussion, several scalp lacerations, one cracked rib, bruised kidneys, and a first degree shoulder separation." The doctor paused, sensing a large amount of tension being released in the room. "Mr. Stokes aspirated a lot of water, so he's on a high does of antibiotics. He's at high risk for pneumonia, especially with being drowned in a heated, chemically treated, whirlpool."

"How long does he have to stay?" Warrick asked still worried about his friend's condition.

The doctor did not want to sugar coat things, she knew these people were scientists. "I'm going to keep him for atleast two days. He had to be resuscitated, so we're going to monitor him for any long term effects. I'm still waiting on tests from his head injury, I'm worried about possible intercranial swelling. He doesn't have a skull fracture, and that is very good news."

Catherine felt a giant weight lift off her shoulders.

Grissom, keeping in mind the job that needed to be done, asked a few more nagging questions. "What kind of tests? We need to... we need to examine him for evidence from this attack." Grissom gazed warily at Warrick, but the man didn't bristle and meet his stare.

"I understand. If you need to document this crime, you can go ahead. As far as the tests, we'll conduct electrocardiographic monitoring. We need to take a chest radiograph, blood gas, electrolyte analysis, and a complete blood count. We're also going to get CAT scans of his head to ensure there're no blood clots forming from the head wounds, as well as constantly monitoring the intercranial pressure.

Doctor Price saw a sense of alarm radiating from the four people in front of her. "I don't anticipate that we'll find any long-term problems, and these are just precautions. What concerns me is, that Mr. Stokes, despite his ordeal, seems to be suffering from advanced fatigue. He'll need to get some rest when he returns home. I'm talking about complete bed rest, guys. I want three or four days."

"He separated his shoulder?" Catherine asked, still trying to imagine the attack and how he could have suffered such an injury.

The doctor nodded. "Yes, it's a first degree separation. There was no separation of the bone; his muscles and ligaments were stretched and he'll be in a sling for a few days, and his pain managed with medication." The sound of a pager went off and the doctor glanced down.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go. I'll be available for any other questions. You can see him, but he's been sedated, and won't be in any shape to answer questions right now."

"Thank you, Doctor," Grissom said.

Warrick picked up the small kit that contained his camera. He looked at Catherine and sighed heavily. This was one aspect of the job that he hated, and it was made that much more difficult considering who it involved. Warrick tried to calm himself, as getting overly emotional wouldn't help the case they needed to build. He'd take a few photos now and come back to interview Nick when woke up, and take more documented pictures. He meet Catherine's eyes and then spied an approaching figure.

"Sonofabitch," he mumbled and then looked over at Sara and Grissom. "Don't look now, guys, but it's the Sheriff."

* * *

Grissom's lips twitched; he looked even more miserable than he had before. Warrick felt sorry for his supervisor, but in the end, it wasn't a priority with him at the moment. He followed Catherine to Nick's room, leaving his two coworkers to deal with the inevitable politics. 

Gil Grissom squared his shoulders and met the unapproving stare of the  
Sheriff. As he stopped in front of the two CSI's, Sara stepped up quietly to  
her boss' side. Her silent support didn't go unnoticed, and the air sizzled  
with tension before any words were spoken. "CSI Sidle, will you please return to the lab to process the new results that were phoned to me just a few minutes ago." Sheriff Brian Mobley awaited for her to spring into action, but she remained unmoving. Mobley pursed his lips.

Grissom casually looked at Sara. "Why don't you go back to the lab, and then  
you can come back and visit Nick later, when he's awake." Gil could feel the protest of his request radiate from her. He adjusted his glasses. "He's in no shape for visitors yet, and he still needs to be interviewed. You heard about all the tests. I'll let him know you'll be coming back later after they're finished, okay?"

Sara mutely nodded and brushed by the Sheriff without a word.

Mobley cast a sideways glance at her rudeness, but turned his attention back to the  
graveyard supervisor. "Look, Gil. I know this is a bad time for you, but  
your case is breaking wide open, and you two would serve the city better by  
returning to it now."

Grissom wasn't surprised by the callousness of the politician; he certainly  
wasn't a law enforcement officer in his eyes. He leaned against the wall and  
stared at Mobley with the same expression he reserved for suspects. "One of  
my CSI's was almost killed tonight."

Mobley frowned, "I know that. I'm sorry Gil. Stokes is a good kid." The  
Sheriff took a deep breath. "However, he's all right, isn't he?" Not waiting  
for an answer he pressed on. "This case needs your full attention. The  
ramifications are earth shattering. I need you and Sidle back on it right  
now. Willows and Brown can handle the investigation."

Grissom stood straight, but kept his voice even and blunt. "Nick was  
technically killed on duty. He was damned lucky Brass found him when he did.  
My CSI's will not continue to be placed in danger because of the staffing  
situation this case of yours is causing."

"They won't. I'll add Vega to help out with this gym homicide." Mobley tried  
to calm the other man.

"No, I want more of my team on this. I'll oversee both cases." Grissom  
extended his pointer finger towards the Sheriff.

"Catherine will remain lead, but I will be involved. You can threaten my job however you feel fit, Brian." Grissom closed his hand and held it in the air, defiantly. "Don't  
play your political games with me, when one of my own is lying in the  
hospital because of it."

Grissom didn't wait for a retort as he spun on his heel and walked towards  
the exit. "I'm going back to the lab, and then over to Gold's gym  
afterwards."

Sheriff Mobley stood silently for a few moments, and then quietly followed  
the criminalist out the door.

TBC...

* * *

Author's notes: I'm really amazed by the response to this story. I don't know what to say, but just a thank you for taking the time to give leave me such lovely and helpful feedback. Its nice to know that there are others out there who have the same kind of taste in certain types of stories. I'm not alone! 

On the medical parts: I'll go back and edit the compression mistake. My wonderful beta Kris is also a medical expert who goes over my stuff. I will say from the story on out that I try to stay true to reality as much as I can, but I may stray a bit to fit the storyline.

amarawind, jewelbaby,staresp4cat,lonesomedove,Jess,Mudhousejunkie:

Thanks to all of you for all the nice encouragement. I hope this was a soon enough update. Thanks for reading adn taking the time to say hello. Hope you enjoied this one as well.

Designation:

Thanks for you wonderful comments. You can breathe a bit better for a while ...perhaps.

Groban:

I'm causing more heart problems, I'm sorry! Well not really..but I hope you recovered well enough to contiune. Thanks again, glad I had your mind racing.

PL Wynter:

We shall see if Warrick gets any help. I do love the way Cath and Nick used to work together. They has such chemistry. I'll always keep that kind of interaction in my stuff. Nick will have it a bit roguh for while. Poor lamb.

A.Remains:

You rock! An oscar eh? That really made my day. You're too sweet. I almost feel like the rest of the story won't live up to so many expectations. Only time will tell. Thanks again.

Shacky:

Wow. Thanks. Greg gets a few more important scnes later on I promise. I love those two together. I alos like Brass a lot, he's always there, with that bland, dry humor. He's really a riot...well sort of. Next to Vega he's my favorite detective. Thanks for your comments.

C1:

Hope you did not have to check too many times. You can always count on 2-3 days in between updates. Glad you're enjoying the ride and that this stays intresting. You're the greatest! As I said, Nick is a strong guy, he can take a pounding if, he take care of himself. Hmmm.

Pasta:

Thanks for the medical tip. I'll be sure to edit that later on.

Amy:

Thanks for all the hints. Like I mentioned my wonderful beta Kris is my medical adviosr, but I still drive her cray anyways:-) I hope this chapter covered any questions people might hvae, but I dare warn, I may strench reality just a bit to fit in with my contest. Thanks again!

LiaAmakur :

I have to stop the action somewhere or the chapters would run too long. Hope this update was fast enough. Thanks!

Brady:

Thank you. Coming from you that means a lot. Just read one of your fics that I'm going to leave feedback with. I really do try to keep in character.

johnnygirl51:

Thank you so much. Its nice to see some lurkers come out. I really enjoy freindship stories, I try to keep with the show in that aspect. I also adore Warrick...can you tell. I have two major other stories in the planning stages as well as a few shorts, so yes, there will be more. I hope you enjoy this one and thanks again for taking the time to say hello.


	8. Chapter 8

Catherine and Warrick had visited Nick briefly, but the doctor had been  
right. He was sedated and would be not be awake for many hours. They had  
gathered his clothes from one of the nurses and sent them over to the lab.  
Warrick took a few photos of Nick's head wounds. He also scraped under his  
finger nails for possible hidden DNA from the suspect. Once they were done, they headed back to the gym.

Warrick was searching behind the building for anything that might be amiss. Catherine pulled back the crime scene tape that adorned the physical therapy room. Several police  
officers were still on the scene; each of them mutely acknowledged her  
presence. She knew most of these cops. When one investigated crime scenes  
you got to know most of the brothers and sisters in blue. Sometimes respect  
had to be earned from each side. In other instances, each division butted  
heads, but they were still all part of the same team. Nick Stokes was very  
well liked by criminalists and police officers alike. Catherine's drive for  
answers was reflected in the expressions of each person she walked  
by.

Jim Brass greeted her just inside the room. He had kept it clear, knowing  
that someone from graveyard would return. There was no way anyone else was  
going to step foot on this crime scene. Jim had kept tabs on Nick's well  
being via his cell phone, knowing that he better served his colleagues in  
keeping things secure at the gym.

"I've looked around," he said as Catherine put down her kit to scan the room  
with fresh eyes.

"Yeah? Your thoughts?" Catherine respected Jim's opinion. The man had deftly  
supervised the lab for many years before his demotion. Jim shrugged.

"Not much here. Hopefully some of your fancy tools will  
divulge more."

Catherine walked over to the last set of lockers and began to carefully sift  
through the items inside. Her instincts told her that maybe Nick's attack  
wasn't just random. He could have stumbled upon something, but till he woke  
up, she would just play a hunch. She pulled out every magazine and piece of  
clothing and bagged them. She photographed the dent and blood smear that had  
been made on the inside wall.

"It's a good thing Nick has a hard head," Catherine commented at the damage  
done.

"Yeah, he'd have to be, working with Gil," Jim replied wryly, staring at the  
destruction from the other locker door.

Catherine couldn't suppress a frown when she stared at the next locker. She  
took photos of the dents documenting the other blood smears and small  
splatter caused by Nick's head. She took a swab, just in case. Every detail  
counted. Catherine pulled out her powders and began dusting the locker for prints.  
She nibbled on her bottom lip when numerous ones appeared. She began the  
tedious task of lifting more than thirty from the door, the shelves, and the  
locker combination. She also discovered a few smudges from the broken  
mirror.

Then she focused on the floor for any shoeprints. She  
crouched down, aiming her flashlight all over the tiles, but they yielded  
nothing. Catherine made her way over to the whirlpool, careful to avoid some  
of the pink water that had spilled onto the floor. She stood up and let her eyes roam back towards the lockers.

Brass watched the criminalist with interest. "What's going through that pretty little head  
of yours?"

"Nick's gun is missing."

Jim scanned the area. "I noticed that too. Our suspect keep it for a  
souvenir?"

"No. He's escalating. Taking more risks," Warrick's voice echoed in the  
room.

Catherine watched her coworker enter; he looked haggard. The lanky CSI's  
shirt was completely unbuttoned, his black undershirt untucked from his  
jeans. He strode in, taking in the scene, and lowered his kit a few feet  
from the whirlpool.

"What makes you think he's escalating?" Catherine asked, intrigued by  
Warrick's posture and self assurance.

"Think about it." Warrick walked over to Catherine. He glared at the still  
waters of the pool and swept his gaze back to her.

"Mike Ross was the possible first victim, killed in a car crash. Suspect  
used a vehicle as his murder weapon with no real physical contact. Then he  
gets a bit bolder. He strangles Walter Davis with some type of cord. I think  
he choked him from behind, so he wouldn't be seen."

"He switches from a car to a cord or rope as the murder weapon. Which  
requires a closer proximity to the victim," Catherine added, following  
Warrick's train of thought.

"Right. With Nancy, maybe it's more personal. She's going to the cops to  
help us with the case. He chokes her with his bare hands." Warrick motioned  
with his fingers, curling them in mid air. "He gets more aggressive, more  
into the kill."

"Breaks her neck in the rage, or...after she dies, enjoying the violence  
of it all," Brass interjects.

"He's stays hidden every time." Warrick cocked his head. "I don't think any  
of the vics saw his approach or even his face."

Catherine placed her hands on her hips. "The killer wanders in here. He gets  
scared that his presence might raise suspicion, or maybe Nick found  
something in here. Nick's a threat."

Warrick rubbed his chin, and his hand cupped his jaw line. "Nick becomes the  
next aggressive act. Not content on just knocking Nick out, he tries to  
drown him... watch him die."

"He took Nick's gun because..." Catherine postulated out loud.

"He took the gun because he plans on facing his next target. It's a bigger  
risk, a bigger thrill." Warrick's eyes were bright. "Every attack is more  
violent than the last."

"Trying to kill a law officer is one giant leap on the reckless chart," Jim  
spoke up after listening to the CSI's theories.

"He's probably hopped up on God knows how many pills. Steroids cause extreme  
depression and mania. Except our guy thrives on murder," Catherine continued  
on about motive.

"I bet I know at least one scumbag that's already all riled up over Nicky,"  
Jim added.

"But we can't prove it." All three investigators turned to see Grissom  
standing there quietly. Each of them pondered how long he had been there  
listening. Jim Brass smiled. The grave shift supervisor always had the strangest effect  
on his team. A modern day witch doctor.

"Gil, Roger Sikes has been on Nick's case since the beginning. He was arrested for trying to deck him at headquarters for crying out loud."

"Talk about someone who hasn't mastered the art of self control," Catherine  
added dryly.

"Those are all bad personality traits. None of it proves anything," Grissom  
reasoned. He watched the frustrated expressions around him before taking off  
his glasses. "So, let's look at what we do have."

"I dropped off the epithelials from under Nick's fingernails to DNA. I also  
dropped off his clothes at trace just in case they might find any fibers  
from our suspect," Warrick explained.

Catherine sighed. "More than likely all the blood here is Nick's, nothing  
from the suspect. His gun is missing. We're still waiting on the analysis  
from the Nancy Brookes case."

"We don't have much." Jim stated the obvious.

Grissom walked past his CSI's towards the exit. "Where does this lead?"

Catherine stood next to her boss. "It leads to a hallway, and then outside.  
I haven't gotten over there yet."

"This door was locked." Grissom pointed out.

"I'll dust for prints." Warrick slapped on some latex gloves and brushed  
past the other criminalists. If he noticed the pointed looks he was receiving from them, he didn't show it as he bent down to dust the entire door. Grissom gave Catherine a worried look. Warrick was treading a thin line right now.

"No signs of forced entry," Warrick announced.

Catherine nodded. "Which means someone with a key got in."

Grissom held out several fingers, ticking them off as he talked. "We have  
access and opportunity."

"We have enough to drag Sikes back in for another round of questions, while  
the lab processes what you've collected." Jim wanted nothing more than  
another round with the Ox-man, as Nick had so aptly nicknamed the guy.

"Maybe," Grissom warned. The team spent the next hour dusting the rest of  
the lockers for comparison, as well as searching for any other trace  
evidence, and then headed back to the lab.

* * *

Warrick paced outside the DNA lab. Catherine was busy compiling the prints  
she'd gathered from the locker. She had given him a glare when he offered to  
help sort thought the numerous samples, so he regulated himself to another  
part of the lab. Warrick grew tired of dodging people in the hallway as he  
stalked back and forth like a caged lion outside Greg's domain. So, he  
settled on leaning in the door frame, staring at the younger man as he ping  
ponged between computers and microscopes.

"You know intimidation isn't going to make things work any faster," Greg  
grumbled towards the floor. He had yet to look up at the brooding CSI.

"Picture that. I just want to make sure this thing gets top priority."

Greg stripped off his gloves and stomped over to Warrick. He glared up at  
the other man. "I'm just the tech here. I do what I'm told, when I'm told.  
It's not my fault the mayor and sheriff are breathing down my neck over their  
case." Greg's voice started off confrontational, and gradually softened by  
the end of his little tirade. "Despite that, I put your tests through  
first."

Warrick didn't apologize for his rudeness. "How much longer?"

"When the printer beeps, then you'll have your answer." Greg stuffed his  
hands into his lab coat. "I was supposed to leave hours ago. I waited around  
because I want to help find out who is responsible just as much as you."

Greg walked away and perched himself on one of the stools without letting  
the other man have a rebuttal. Warrick strode into the room without comment. Both men didn't speak, but the silence didn't last long. The printer began spitting out the lab report.  
Greg snatched the printout and soaked in the results.

He stared at the anxious CSI. "There were no hits in CODIS on the skin cells found under Nick's nails."

"Dammit." Warrick swore before he shook his head. "We're no closer on this thing."

Greg studied each line of data and held out a finger to silence the  
criminalist. "The skin cells do match the ones under Nancy Brooke's nails as  
well."

Greg handed the report to Warrick. The CSI read the readout. "We have proof that it's the same killer then."

"Just get me a DNA reference and we'll have our suspect." Greg removed his  
lab coat and headed out.

Warrick looked up from the paper. "Thanks, Greg." The tech waved at him as he continued down the hallway. Warrick sighed to himself and started out of the lab as well.

He saw Catherine heading towards him, gripping some results of her own. "What cha got?" He asked, hoping it was more probative then his.

"It's not a smoking gun, but enough to finally haul Roger back over here." Catherine acknowledged.

"Yeah?"

Catherine handed him her own report. "We lifted dozens of smudged prints as well as some from unknowns. There were a few from Bob Fulton, who'll we'll talk to, but that's where he normally works." Catherine raised one of her eyebrows. " Over ten sets were from Roger Sikes. His fingerprints were all over the locker combination as well as inside the locker door."

"We proved that he used the locker, but he does work there."

Catherine nodded. "True, but his prints are not on any of the other lockers.  
We have enough to go at him again and see what shakes loose."

"Maybe get him to admit to a DNA test," Warrick said hopefully.

"We'll have to come up with a creative way for that. He's hostile as it is.  
We'll play with that overblown ego a bit." Catherine speculated.

"Jim just called. Roger Sikes isn't at home. He's heading over to Michelle  
Wilson's house next."

Both investigators spun around to see that Grissom had slipped in without  
either of them noticing his approach yet again. Grissom leaned against the  
wall.

"Can we put out an APB?" Warrick asked.

Grissom shook his head. "We have no grounds for that kind of action. All we  
want to do is question him some more."

Warrick fumed. "He might be leaving the city, Gris!"

"He might. But we have no evidence linking him to Nick's attack." Grissom  
glanced at his watch. "Nick might be awake soon, get an eye witness  
statement, and I'll make sure LVPD hauls him in."

Catherine put her hand on Warrick's shoulder, "Let's each find a place to  
sack out for a couple of hours. We'll go talk to Nicky, when we've had a  
chance to rest. I'm not letting us get as run down as he did." Catherine  
stared at her partner, her guilt over Nick's fatigue eating away at her.

"We're no good to anyone if we're dead on our feet." Warrick didn't respond, but he let Catherine guide him to a quiet office with a couch. After she made sure he at least laid down, she found a sofa in the Assistant director's office to spread herself on. _'He was gone for the day, thank goodness,'_ she thought.

She couldn't get the images out of her head of Nick laying on the floor motionless.She had actually scoffed at Grissom's warnings about the case. He had been right about the danger involved. Catherine closed her tired eyes and quietly sobbed. After a few minutes she finally fell into a restless sleep.

TBC...

* * *

I don't know how many times I can thank everyone for their e-mails and feedback, just know that its appreciated.

A.Remains-

Thanks girl, you rule.

Staresp4cat-

There will be clues, don't worry, they will present themselves as the chapters continue. No real Nick in this chapter, but you'll learn about his recovery from the next ones. Thanks again.

Mudhousejunkie-

I'm always reminded of the take charge Grissom that I adored in season one. He is the man!

PL Wynter-

I have a Catherine and Nick story brewing in my brain, must re-watch "Revenge is Best Served Cold" again for much inspiration.

PietraBob-

I'm so happy to see another lurker come out and say hi, but I must pick up my jaw from the floor. Thank you so much for your kind words. I will continue to try and write a compelling story for you to enjoy. I'm outlining my next one, and will try to strive for realism and characterizations. I will continue to write what I enjoy, what makes me happy, but I would be lying if I didn't say its nice to see others enjoy the fruit of the writing bug.

ner-

Thanks again for your continued support!

C1-

Hey again. I always hated Mobley and for the most part Grissom has never really put up with the imp. That was a fun scene to write! Thanks again.

amarawind-

Glad I have you hooked. Hope you enjoyed it.

rozy07-

Your wish is my command. I think Chapters 6 and 7 took me the longest to get just right. I rewrote those scenes quite a bit to capture all the aspects I wanted to convey. Glad to see it worked. Thank you as usual.


	9. Chapter 9

Warrick and Catherine stood outside their friend's hospital room. They were listening intently to his doctor, before being allowed to enter.

Dr. Price eyed the criminalists' kits with suspicion. "I am an advocate for my patient, Mr. Brown and Ms. Willows. As much as I like for you to find out who committed such a violent act on him, there are guidelines you have to follow"

Both criminalists nodded and allowed the physician to carry on. After all, she was effectively blocking their entrance into the CSI's room.

"Mr. Stokes needs to remain as still as possible. You already took photos of his head, but I'm afraid he can't be on his feet for a while"

Warrick sighed. "We need to document this case, we..."

Dr. Price cut him off. "No, you don't understand. His head trauma cannot be aggravated by movement. Also, please be careful with his mood. Any rapid fluctuations in blood pressure are not good for him at all"

"We'll keep our questions to a minimum, " Catherine tried to reassure the physician. She glanced at Warrick, making sure he got the message as well.

The doctor nodded. "Good. He's going to be limited in how much he can talk. His throat more than likely feels like pounded raw hamburger right now. It'll be sore from sucking in all that caustic water and he was intubated for a small amount of time"

"Are you giving him anything for that?" Warrick asked testily.

"Yes, Mr. Brown. It's being managed with medication along with ice chips and seltzer water."

"Thank you, Doctor Price." Catherine shook the other woman's hand, trying to smooth things over from her partner's less than charming behavior.

Warrick scowled at the female CSI and both went into the room, hoping to find more answers to this crime.

* * *

Nick lay in his hospital bed, staring upwards. He never imagined that there could be so many dots contained in such a small ceiling. His arm itched from the IV site and he absently scratched at it. He tried not to fiddle with the oxygen tubes in his nose. He was told several times to keep them there, even though he hadn't any trouble breathing since his arrival... or that he could remember. There was a clip on one of his fingers to measure something, but he'd already forgotten what for.

His chest ached, no that wasn't the word he was searching for. It felt tight. His doctor told him that he'd feel uncomfortable for a while from all the inflammation from his lungs caused from the spa water. It didn't help he almost puked his guts out as well, but that memory was very fuzzy as well. He kept wanting to itch his chest. It felt prickly from within.

He was on some heavy pain medication, his cracked rib didn't hurt, but he knew that wouldn't last long once his meds wore off. Nick's right arm was in a sling, and he didn't have a comfortable place to lay it, since it seemed every part of him ached. His shoulder wasn't so bad, but then again, he hadn't moved it any. God he was tired, exhausted down to the bone. Despite this, his mind was too wired from what had happened. He chastised himself for being so stupid and ill prepared.

Every time he closed his eyes he felt a pervasive feeling of panic. He recalled blackness, and spotlights like those that blinded you from flashbulbs. There was a sense of helplessness that seemed to stick with him. He was doped up on all sorts of medications, and he felt so loopy. Things seemed very displaced. He kept drifting off, staring at the wall, or back at that stupid ceiling. His head pounded with the sound of the heart monitor and he groaned loudly as he rubbed his free hand across his eyes.

"You all right, man"

Nick wanted to laugh, but he knew how that would appear. Instead he settled for a small, sad smile. "I'm doing pretty good, bro."

Nick heard the quiet disagreement with this assessment, but he didn't add any additional comments. He saw Catherine standing on his left side, with Warrick next to her. Catherine pulled out a chair and lowered herself heavily in it. She had a tape recorder in her hand that she fiddled with nervously.

Nick played with the bed sheets, he knew this drill. "What do you want to know?"

"Can you start right before the attack?" The senior CSI said softly, before pushing the little red button.

Nick took as deep of a breath as his sore body allowed. He wracked his brain. "I was going through the lockers." Nick closed his eyes trying to search his mind.

"Did you find anything?" Catherine asked, hoping to jog his memory.

Nick felt frustrated. His thoughts seemed scrambled. He was starting to get annoyed with himself. "I dunno."

Catherine didn't want to prod him too much about it, but she had a nagging feeling. "You were inside the last locker. You must have been digging inside... maybe you saw something that caught your eye?" she suggested.

Nick went to rub his face, but stopped short. He didn't want to irritate the skin around his stitches. He had several deep cuts on his head... when did that happen? He let his fingers drift down towards his eyes and rubbed them vigorously. He had searched each locker, but the last one... it was messy.

Then he saw the dope in his mind. "I found a gallon sized ziplock full of pills...I...I... was going to radio you guys, when I felt someone grab my shoulder."

Warrick and Catherine exchanged surprised looks. They had not expected this tidbit of information.

Nick blinked several times, recalling the pressure on his shoulder. Then the feeling was gone. He felt the panic start to well up in his chest which only caused him to cough. Now he was hacking and his poor lungs were protesting the increased irritation.

Warrick searched for a glass of water. He found it by the bed on a little portable stand. "Take it easy man," he said worriedly. He handed the glass to Nick, who took it and sipped on it for a few seconds. He then gave him back the glass and wrapped his left arm around himself to try to fend off the new pain.

"We didn't see any baggies on the scene, man," Warrick explained regrettably.

"The perp must have taken them," Catherine reasoned. Both CSI's knew it was probably the reason Nick was assaulted.

A nurse entered the room for a moment interrupting the CSIs. "Everything all right in here? Mr. Stokes' monitor went off from a spike in his BP."

Nick waved her away. Warrick turned to her, "Things are fine. He had a little bit of a coughing fit."

The nurse fiddled with her chart, "Let me know if you need anything," she said leaving.

"Did you see who attacked you, Nick?" Catherine asked hopefully.

"No. I mean... I don't think so." Nick looked back up at the ceiling, feeling somewhat inadequate.

Catherine took Nick's free hand in hers and gave it a slight squeeze, encouraging him.  
Nick tried to give Catherine one of his dazzling smiles, but failed miserably. It came across as more of a grimace. She bit back the tears that threatened to escape. "Just try, Nicky."

Nick looked down at his sling, studying the blue color. He knew that the dull hue was supposed to be soothing, but it didn't really have the desired effect. Not when it reminded him of water. He licked his lips. "I don't know. I was tired, couldn't seem to fight back very well."

"You had a hard time defending yourself. Do you recall how big the guy was, maybe?" Warrick tried to encourage.

Nick felt like someone was drilling a hole inside his skull. It hurt to think. "I can't remember anything about him." Nick swallowed again, his voice was getting hoarser. "I remember feeling like my shoulder was getting ripped off...pain in my back."

Catherine rubbed her thumb over his hand, carefully avoiding the pulse clip on his pointer finger.

"I keep seeing water. I tried to move, but I couldn't." Nick felt lost in thought, but then his eyes brightened. "I scratched him"

Warrick leaned onto the railing. "You scratched him? Might explain what I found under your nails. No matches in CODIS though."

Nick nodded, the movement making him feel dizzy. "I don't remember very much after that." He didn't mention the sensations that were still fresh in his mind.

Warrick tried to hide his disappointment. He had hoped his partner had seen the guy's face. All his money was on Sikes, but without a positive ID their case was too flimsy.

Catherine swallowed. "That was good, Nicky. I know it was difficult. I have to go back to the lab. Warrick's going to stay behind for a few more minutes."

Nick stared past her. "Doc says I'll be out of here in the next day or so, or something. I can help."

Catherine fixed him with a glare. "Nick, the only thing you're going to help with is giving yourself a break. You're going to get a lot of sleep and nothing more. Your doctor wants you flat on your back the first few days when you get home."

Nick opened his mouth to protest, but the senior CSI would have none of it. "You can't be on this case, Nick. You are on medical leave for at least a week or more and there is no arguing about it."

Nick kept his mouth shut, knowing that this wasn't the time to debate the issue. He saw Warrick shoot him a warning look. He'd play nice for now and lie there quietly. Catherine bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll be back. I know Sara is stopping by later to check up on you. Feel better."

"All right," he answered quietly.

The lead CSI left the room, leaving the two men alone. Warrick shook his head, knowing what was going through his partner's mind. Warrick didn't say anything however, as he still had things to accomplish before heading out himself. He reached down to retrieve his camera. "I know you would rather show off your manly physique to Catherine, but you're stuck with me for that."

Nick snorted at his partner's attempt at being funny. "What'cha need?"

"Let me get a few shots of your abdomen," Warrick said while thinking the best way to do it, without hurting his friend.

Nick looked dumbly at his stomach. He tried to sit up so he could shove his blanket down one-handed past his hips. He was wearing hospital issued pajama type bottoms and a 'fashionable' gown. His vision grayed out from the simple motion of moving.

Warrick saw his friend's face pale slightly. Alarmed, he grabbed Nick's hand, holding it still. "Hold on, bro. I'll do everything, you just lay back."

Nick didn't answer, as his sense of vertigo eased up just a bit.

Warrick placed his camera at the foot of the bed. "I'll help you with the sling." The CSI knew better than to ask if he wanted any assistance. It just mattered that he was there to help if needed.

Warrick slipped off the sling, and the movement caused Nick to grit his teeth as he gently moved his arm to his side. The Texan's face reddened only slightly as his partner untied his gown and pushed it up so it didn't slide back down. Warrick snapped a few pictures of Nick's abdomen, documenting the band of bruising around his diaphragm that the edge of the whirlpool had made.

Now Warrick needed to photograph any bruising on his back. There was no way Nick could stand up, so he'd have to improvise. "I'll be right back."

Nick looked at him confused, but Warrick shot him a look that said "trust me." Nick tried not to laugh out loud. After a few long minutes his partner returned with a nurse. Nick didn't know if he was very happy about that.

Warrick addressed his friend's perplexed expression. "I asked Nurse Peters, very nicely, if she could help me roll you onto your good side."

The nurse looked at Warrick and back to her patient. "We're going to do this quickly. Let me know right away if you can't handle this, Mr. Stokes."

Warrick walked around the side of the bed. The nurse followed suit to make sure Nick didn't pull too hard on any of his lines since all the IV sites were in his left crook of his arm, since his right one had been obstructed by his sling.

Nick held his right arm close to his body so as not to jostle his injured shoulder. He slowly rolled to his right side, he felt the nurse support his back. His gown was rolled up from behind. Nick grunted softly as a shooting pain went up his side and into his chest. His head pounded and he pressed his left fingers into his eyes, trying to rub at the bone above his eyebrow. He massaged that area as the camera flash bounced off the walls in front of him.

Warrick took a few more pictures of the bruise on Nick's right side. Someone had dug their knee in hard to leave that kind of mark.

"That's enough," the nurse ordered.

Warrick was done anyway and Nick gingerly lay back on his back. The nurse studied the BP readouts and turned to Warrick. "Please hurry this up."

Then she left. Warrick smoothed out Nick's hospital gown and tied the strings together, giving the man his dignity back.

Nick gave him a scowl. "I'm not helpless, man."

"Didn't say you were." Warrick held out the shoulder sling and made sure his friend slid his arm back in gently.

"You'd make a great nurse." Nick commented with a hint of his old humor.

"Don't get used to it," Warrick grunted.

Nick took a deep breath, trying to relax a little in the bed."I'll be outta here in a little while. Don't know why they're keeping me so long," he grumbled.

Warrick wasn't going to mention how lucky his partner was in a position to complain so much. He could have easily been in a dark cold room laying on a slab. "I'll be back later to check up on ya. I'll even be so kind as to pick your ass up when you get sprung."

"Bring me some clothes if you can," Nick asked. "Since what I was wearing's evidence now."

"Sure thing, partner." Warrick neglected to inform his friend that he had no intentions of bringing anything resembling work threads.

Warrick headed for his car. It was time to bust this case wide open. Their suspect took a big chance last night. Nick was onto something, and he would find out what it was and nail the bastard with it.

* * *

Author's notes:  
Good thing the website is back up. Then it took me forever to re-format things, seems like ff now only likes plain text documents and when it was uploaded, took away all my punction! EEk!

I sound like a broken record, but thanks for the contiuned support.

rozzy9-  
Thanks for all of your comments. Yes, its a very dangerous time for everyone and still have a bad guy to track down. Don't you thin Nick won't be a handful for a while. Lots of things going on. Hoped you liked this newest addtion.

PLWynter-  
Greg and Warrick deal with thier emotions in thier own way and both don't do it very well. Nick's awake now, now the poor dear has a lot to think about it.

mudhousejunkie-  
I've been sick and I'm still trying to keep to the 2-3 day thing. The website thing wasn't my fault :-)

A.Remains-  
I'm glad you are enjoiing this, it was a fun story to write. You rock as usual!

Starcastesp-  
Yep, all things are not looking goo right now. Lots of things on the horizen. Thanks again!

Groban-  
Kristen withdrawl! Now that realy cracks me up! No computer? That sucks, but I guess that means you get to read several chapters in a row. I hope this was fast enough, happened to be updating right now!

Shacky-  
You know you rock girl. Glad to be e-mail pals now!


	10. Chapter 10

The next shift yielded very little new information. The hunt for Sikes had  
been ongoing, as he was not staying at Michelle Wilson's home. She claimed he  
went off to visit family. Brass had been on the phone chasing down leads,  
the instructor supposedly used his own car to visit relatives somewhere in  
Nevada.

Warrick was summoned back to the DNA lab. It was almost time to go home, but  
he knew it must be important. He found Greg mulling over a computer screen.

"What's up, Greg?" The tech didn't give him any zany remarks, just handed him a sheet of paper.

"Got the tox screen back on Roger Sikes."

"About time," Warrick grumbled.

Greg shrugged, "His lawyer almost put a halt to it, when Michelle Wilson  
said she changed her mind. However, permission had already been granted."

Warrick looked over the results. "Positive for ten times the legal limit  
without a prescription."

Greg smiled, "You have real probable cause for that APB."

Warrick looked for Catherine to share the news. She was ecstatic,  
and called Jim so he could search for their suspect with full resources.

"Look, shift's over. Go home and get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a  
big day." Catherine had been in an over protective mood of late. Warrick was not going  
to argue with her.

"All right. I'll stop by the hospital before I clock in tomorrow."

Catherine chuckled. "I think Nick is a bit tired of us stopping in all the  
time."

Warrick laughed. "If you think he's been snarky towards us, then don't ask  
the nurses about his mood."

Catherine smiled. Both criminalists headed towards their lockers and then  
finally home. The next night would prove to be very interesting indeed.

* * *

Catherine hurried in several hours early. Grissom had paged her at home.  
Brass had picked up Roger Sikes, who had been found within the city limits.  
He was being brought in. The female CSI found Warrick bounding through the  
hallway like a bull searching for his mark. She had phoned him with the  
news, knowing there would be hell to pay if she kept it from him.

They meet in front of Grissom's office who waved them in. Both CSI's wondered  
how many hours their supervisor had been pulling on his own case. He looked  
tired, but had kept to his word about lending a hand in the Gold Gym's  
homicides.

"Catherine you have lead on the case, you can be in on the interrogation."  
Their supervisor looked at Warrick pointedly. "I want you to just observe."

Warrick bristled. "Gris, come on man."

"This is Catherine's case. I want her to confront Sikes. I want to see if we  
yield something new if he's not being questioned by another Alpha male,"  
Grissom reasoned. He held Warrick's gaze, unfazed by the scrutiny.

Grissom looked at his watch. "Sikes should arrive here within the hour." The supervisor stared at his investigators. "I also got a call from the hospital."

Both Catherine and Warrick looked at their boss expectantly. "Nick's being  
released in the next hour as well." Grissom watched as both his people realized that in their zeal how much time had elapsed. Had it been two days all ready? He worked his jaw, and fixed them with a serious expression.

"Who's going to pick him up?'"

Warrick bit his lip. He wanted to be involved as much as possible in Sikes'  
interview, but he wanted to be there for Nick as well. He began mulling the  
decision over as a thought struck him.

"I'll be right back." Warrick sprinted down the hall, leaving behind two bewildered superiors.

He bounded down turns, barely missing coworkers as he accelerated towards his  
goal. He opened the door to the locker room watching Greg jam out to his  
headphones as he finished changing into his civilian clothes. Warrick gave  
the younger man a curious look as his wardrobe choices. The tech had a white  
T-shirt with purple splotches of color that seemed to be randomly been flung  
on with a paintbrush. He had worn out jeans with a black leather belt laced  
with silver chains around it.

Greg finished tying his shoes, oblivious to the other man. The tech stood up  
and almost ran into Warrick in his haste. He pushed his headphones down to  
around his neck and lowered the volume to his CD player.

He looked at his coworker quizzically. "What's up?"

"You leaving now?" Warrick inquired.

"Yep. I was asked to work a double for Grissom and Sara's case. I was going  
to head over to Desert Palms to visit Nick and then head home," Greg sighed  
at the thought of getting to sleep.

Warrick smiled, and Greg shifted uneasily under his now friendlier gaze.

"That's perfect."

"Yeah. Why's that?" Greg asked cautiously.

Warrick's expression grew serious, "Nick's being released now and we need  
someone to pick him up."

Greg's eyes grew large. "Yeah? You want me to? Sure man, no problem." The  
tech was pleasantly surprised by this. Then his happiness grew to wariness.  
Suspicious, he looked at Warrick. "Why aren't you picking him up?"

Warrick knew it was time to land some important points. "Roger Sikes is  
being interviewed again. I want in on it. I need you to make sure Nick goes  
home."

Greg arched both eyebrows. "You want me to keep him away from work?" Greg  
laughed. "That's going to be fun."

"Greggo, " Warrick placed his hands on the tech's shoulder and gripped them  
somewhat hard, trying to get his point across. "This is important, man. He  
needs to rest."

"Yeah. No problem." Greg watched as Warrick released his shoulders. Greg scanned the different lockers and spotted the one he was looking for.

He tested the door, but found it locked. "Yo, Warrick. You know Nick's  
locker combo?"

The CSI eyed the tech for a moment. "Yeah. Why?"

The tech laughed. "His clothes are sitting in trace for analysis. Man has no  
threads, and his house is past the hospital."

"Good thinking." Warrick walked over, spun the dial and popped open the  
locker.

Greg sifted through until he found a pair of jogging sweats and one of  
Nick's black T-shirts as well as a pair of broken-in loafers. He gathered  
everything together and looked up at the CSI. "I'll call you after I tuck  
him in bed," he said jokingly.

"You know. That's a good idea. Maybe you could sack out at his place. Keep an  
eye on him." Greg laughed, "You're afraid for _my_ safety, right? That I might fall asleep  
going back to my house."

Warrick smiled, he knew the kid picked up on things well. "Yeah, and that's  
exactly what you're going to tell Nick."

Greg grabbed his CD player and saluted his friend before ducking out of the  
locker room. Warrick glanced at his watch and noting the time, decided to  
get ready for the interview.

* * *

Nick felt like a worn out blanket in many ways. Little parts of him seemed  
more frayed then others. He hadn't received much rest in the last two days.  
In between scans and x-rays he had to be woken up every hour to make sure he  
had not developed any complications from his concussion. He had a raging  
headache, his whole body was so sore it hurt to take anything other than  
shallow breaths, and his pain medication had run out when his IV was  
disconnected. Therefore his shoulder hurt like a bitch. He was beyond  
cranky, and on the edge of full blown incommunicable from lack of sleep.

Despite all this, he was grateful to be finally leaving. He didn't talk much  
to Greg, although he nearly hugged the kid when he gave him his clothes. He  
had shooed the tech outside the drawn curtain as he pulled on his jogging  
sweat pants without too much difficulty. He had managed to put on his shirt  
one handed. He allowed his right arm to dangle to the side, only raising it  
to push it though his sleeve. Like a good patient he put his sling back on and stepped into his loafers. Nick pushed the curtain back into place.

Greg was waiting for him expectantly. "You ready?" he asked, wanting to get out of the hospital. He really hated these places. They brought back less than pleasant memories from when he'd been blown up.

"I've got to take a leak," Nick responded, going towards the bathroom.

The tech sighed, "I'll be right here."

Nick closed the door behind him and waited patiently to release his bladder.  
Going to the bathroom the past few days had been pure hell. His bruised  
kidneys made him have to wait forever to pee. He stood there, cursing as the  
pain spasmed in his back. It felt like he was trying to pass razorblades.

Greg heard the string of profanities and started pacing the small space  
anxiously. He didn't want to invade the man's privacy, but he'd been in  
there a long time.

"You ah... all right, Nick?" he asked hesitantly.

Nick closed his eyes as he held on to the tank for support. This was  
ridiculous. A damn simple basic function was giving him torment and on top of  
things, Greg was checking up on him. "Give... me... a moment," he grunted.

Greg wanted to open the door, but kept himself from doing it. He'd give the  
CSI a few more minutes, then he was going in.

Nick finished up, sighing at the blood in the toilet. His doctor had warned  
him about this, and he knew it was going to last a few more days. He flushed  
the john, knowing Greg would freak out if he saw the red water. He opened  
the door right before the tech was about to bound in.

"Whoa, dude. It's cool," Nick tried to squelch any embarrassment.

Greg licked his lips, "Uh... everything all right?"

"Yes, Greg it is." Nick managed a weak smile, this was damn humiliating. He  
didn't comment further, when his escort home pushed forward a wheelchair.

"Your chariot awaits." Greg stepped back, indicating that his charge should  
take a seat.

"You're getting way too much pleasure out of this." Nick complained as he  
sat down, knowing it was hospital procedure to be wheeled out.

Greg pushed him out of his room, and around a corner in the hallway. "I am  
in no way a masochist, hence the reason I already picked up your  
prescriptions."

Nick held onto the handles of the chair as Greg steered him out of the  
hospital at a speed that was a bit too nauseating for him. They zig zagged  
past others in the corridors towards the sliding glass doors. Once they  
entered daylight, Nick groaned as the bright sun made him see spots across  
his vision. His stomach flip flopped once as he lurched to a stop in front  
of a car.

Greg put the brakes on the chair and quickly opened the passenger  
door. Nick took it as his cue to stand up. He got to his feet a bit shakily and  
held onto the car door for a moment. He must have leaned on the door for  
support a bit too long as Greg fidgeted next to him.

"You sure you're okay?" Greg asked in one of those concerned voices that  
just served to irritate the man only more.

"I said I was fine," Nick snapped, his accent heavy. Just as he said it, the  
Texan regretted it. He looked at Greg with the eyes of a man whose emotions  
were still a bit too raw. "Sorry man."

Greg looked momentarily hurt, but that washed away to another worried  
expression. "It's cool."

The tech looked anything other than relaxed and at ease. Nick couldn't blame the guy. He knew he was a mess. Of course he was the only one privy to this knowledge. Nick told all the nurses and his doctor what they wanted to hear. He couldn't hide some of his dizziness or reactions to their tests, but he could lie about the severity of how he  
felt.

Nick slid in and fastened his seatbelt. He sat back and released a slow heavy breath as his escort returned the wheelchair. He rested his head back and absently rubbed at his temples, careful of his stitches. He opened his eyes and waited as Greg hopped into  
the driver's side.

"You want me to pick you up some food before I take you home?" Greg was  
about to start the ignition.

"Nope. I want you to drive me to LVPD," Nick responded.

Greg almost dropped his keys. "Aaah... I can't do that, man."

"Why not?" It wasn't really a question that needed to be answered, almost a  
dare to argue with the CSI.

"You're not medically cleared for the field for, last I checked, at least a  
week," Greg responded, albeit nervously.

"You're right, I'm not. However police quarters isn't out in the field,  
Greggo. I won't even be on the clock." Nick stared at the younger man. The  
tech's spiky hair might have wilted under that kind of pressure if it were  
physically possible.

Greg laughed softly. "Nick man. You just got out of the hospital. There's  
nothing to do there."

Nick grabbed the steering wheel and leaned a bit closer. The criminalist  
knew he didn't have the same effect as Grissom, but he could be intimating  
when it was deemed necessary. He made murderers squirm, this wasn't nearly  
as difficult.

"If there's nothing to do, then there isn't any harm in it, is there?"

Greg retreated as best he could, sliding away from under the _'interrogation  
stare'._ "To you maybe. However, I would be drawn and quartered by Warrick,  
then Grissom. Afterwards Catherine and Sara would tar and feather me."

"Come on, G. If you don't help me out, I'll just catch a cab."

"Why do you want to go there anyway? I mean, if you're going to look for a  
death wish, why not back to the lab?"

Nick sighed. "I can get the info I want there, without running into anyone  
from the lab."

Greg began to wonder how he got put in this situation. He was going to piss  
someone off tonight no matter what happened. "I've got your wallet," he said  
feebly. If Nick didn't have any money, then he couldn't find a way to LVPD.

Nick gripped the wheel harder. He understood the sentiment, but now wasn't  
the time for it. He closed the distance between them even further. This was  
certainly beyond invading the tech's private space. Greg was now crushed  
against the driver side door.

"Greg. At least two people have died. Maybe three. This guy is a coward. I  
didn't even... I didn't see his face."

Nick swallowed hard. "I _need _to work. If I stay alone with my thoughts, I won't be able to rest anyway," he grudgingly admitted. "How can I even relax knowing that the guy that almost killed me is still out there, and with my damn gun."

The DNA analyst succumbed to the heat and nodded. Nick went back to his side of the car, relaxing just a bit in his seat. He didn't face his escort and the engine roared to life as they pulled out of the hospital. Nick leaned his head against the side window and stared out at the blurring objects on the road. The vibration from the glass started to irritate his headache and he moved away from it. He closed his eyes and allowed the silence of the car to lull him to sleep.

When the car stopped twenty minutes later, Nick jumped with a start. He glanced at Greg who was watching him. "We here?"

The tech nodded. "I'll come inside with you." Greg didn't want to chance  
that the CSI would fall flat in the parking lot, and have that be blamed on  
him as well.

Nick got out of the car stiffly, and started very slowly towards the police  
station. Feeling slightly guilty, Nick glanced back at the tech. "Thanks for  
bringing me here. Sorry for being such an ass."

Greg smiled. "Sure thing. I wouldn't give up a ring side seat to fireworks."

Nick laughed. "Don't worry, I'll tell them I forced you."

_'Yeah, right. As if you could force anyone to do anything_,' a voice doubted in Greg's head.

Both men entered the police station and Nick carefully avoided the bustle of  
people all over the place. He veered away from the busy lobby and down the  
quieter corridors of the inner sanctum of the headquarters. Nick knew each  
hallway like the back of his hand and headed towards Jim's office. He  
rounded a corner, going towards the interview rooms, and stopped in mid step  
when he saw a person heading right towards him.

* * *

Auhtor's notes: Broken record time. Thank you to all new and faithful for youe contiuned support. Its touching. Hoped you enjoied the latest. Another Monday!

csifan-

Missed you on the last update. I'm a big fan of the action/drama genre, its relly a fun thing to explore. Thank you for your comments.

cl-

Nick is doing fairly well, let's see if the gang will keep an eye on him. You never know. Again I love Warrick, I don't think anyone could hold that man back if he was bound and deterimned to do something.

PL Wynter-

The suspect is out and about and there is still a case that needs to be solved, I think our Fav CSI is going to be a very busy man, despite warnings otherwise.

mudhousejunkie-

I'm feeling better thank you. Damn sinuses. Here's the latest, thanks again!

Staresp4cat-

Hehe, the man needs to get home first! Then maybe someone will keep an eye on him, we all hope!

A.Remains-

Nick is doing as well as expected, now he better follow doctor orders...oh whoops...we'll see.

amarawind-

Yep, Nick in this one as well. We do have to see what the others are doing :-) Writing it is my fix as well, hope the addiction isn't too bad.

Desination-

Glad to see you back from your trip and all caught up. Thanks for your comments, yeah poor Nick is going to be fuzzy for a while, concusions are no joke.

Charmboy-

You're on a good computer now I see :-) Glad you're able to post!

angleforever-

thanks nice to see another new face. I think Warrick would drive Nick crazy if he was there with him for too long. Could you imagine the ribbing? Warrick would just stock up for a day when he could pick on Nick about it later.

msquirrel-

Another new person saying hello. Thanks for your commnets on Walk in the Woods, hope you enjoy your journey as you catch up on chapters.

kiki-

Thank you for your support, seems everyone has a heart attack during chapter 6. Enjoy the rest.


	11. Chapter 11

Warrick joined Catherine in the hallway as they headed towards their  
destination. The lead CSI looked at her partner seriously, commanding his  
attention as they stopped in front of a closed door.

"I don't want any outburst, no drama," she stated.

Warrick stood straighter. "I'll keep quiet."

Catherine looked at him with sympathy. "I'm just as upset as you are, Rick. I also know when to store my emotions for later."

Warrick gave her a look that said what he was thinking. Every one of them  
had lost their cool during certain cases from time to time.

The female CSI pulled a strand of hair behind her ear. "Is Grissom observing  
through the one way?"

"Nah. Sheriff got him back under a microscope. We're supposed to keep him  
informed."

Catherine took a deep breath and fiddled with her files under her arm. She  
opened the door and both of them walked in. Catherine took the chair across  
from the desk and Warrick took a seat at the far end of the room. Both of  
them waited patiently for Jim Brass to join them before Roger Sikes arrived.

* * *

Catherine Willows drummed her fingers ever so slowly on the table in front  
of her. Her nails echoed in the room as she stared at Roger Sikes. The man  
entered the room and sat in his chair in a huff. His eyes darted all over  
the place and finally his cold stare focused on the female CSI.

"What do you people want now?"

Catherine leaned in on her elbows, taking her time answering the question.  
"For starters, we want to know where were you Tuesday around 7:00 p. m?"

Roger slumped in his chair. "You people are really preoccupied about where I  
am all the time."

Jim, who had been standing to the side, smiled smugly. "That's because we  
think bad things happen where you go."

Roger snorted. "Whatever."

Catherine tilted her head. "Just answer the question, Mr. Sikes."

"That was two days ago lady. I went to visit my cousin, Jimmy. You want to  
know why? Because you guys shut down my gym. That's where I was till your  
bull dog showed up with a bunch of cops." Annoyed, the muscle man grabbed a  
bottle of water sitting on the table and took a big swig.

"What time did you leave?... Mr. Sikes?"

"I don't know. Late at night."

"Anyone see you there?" The CSI asked.

"Yeah, my damn cousin. One of you already spoke to him. Got any other  
questions?" Roger shot back.

"Yeah. Do you have any injuries that you're on the mend from?" Catherine  
asked, her voice tight.

Roger seemed momentarily confused. "Injuries? No."

"Could you explain why a gym instructor would have fingerprints all over a  
customer's locker in the physical therapy room, then?"

The instructor's face went from puzzlement to anger. Jim inched his way  
closer to the volatile man, just in case he lost his temper again.

"I don't know. Maybe, I touched it at some point. Who knows." Roger Sikes  
looked slightly uncomfortable in his chair as he started looking around.

Catherine pulled out a paper from a file and slid it over towards the  
instructor. "Your fingerprints were found all over that locker and inside it  
as well. Do you usually use client lockers?"

Roger snatched the paper, looked and threw it back towards the criminalist.  
"Like I said, I may have been in there at one point or another. I work there  
for crying out loud." Roger rested his palms on the table. "Look, if you  
don't have any other significant questions then I'm leaving. The only reason  
I didn't come back here with my lawyer was the guy charges way too much. So,  
if that's all, then I'm out of here."

Roger got out of his chair and headed towards the door.

Jim Brass cut in front of him and pointed at the vacant seat. "Sit back down, we're not  
done."

Catherine decided to go full force, knowing that the man might balk before  
they could squeeze him any more. She flicked her gaze at Warrick, letting  
him know to remain a silent observer. "Mr. Sikes, a crime scene investigator  
was attacked Tuesday at your gym while searching the physical therapy room."

For the first time Roger Sikes looked nervous. Once he sat back down, he looked  
over at Warrick and back to the detective whose eyes bore right through him.  
The tension in the room was thick and all of a sudden the temperature had  
seemed to rise a few degrees.

"One of you guys was hurt?" The instructor tapped his foot restlessly.  
"Sorry to hear. What's that got to do with me?"

Jim walked over to the man and bent down and spoke softly. "It's the same  
guy you assaulted three days ago."

Sikes' neck muscles tightened. "Just because I wanted to punch that cowboy's  
lights out didn't mean I went after him or something."

"Really?" Jim opened his mouth, then closed it, thinking. "This guy caused  
you to lose your temper at a police station of all places. This same person  
didn't piss you off when you spotted him messing with your things at the  
gym?"

"No way, man. I didn't do anything. I wasn't near the gym."

Catherine drew his attention back to her. She ticked off a finger for every  
point she made. "Your fingerprints found on the locker he was searching.  
Your beef with him during this investigation. We shut your gym down. Pissed  
off your girlfriend." The CSI held his gaze as her voice went up an octave.  
"You also tested positive for steroids."

Catherine just waited for a response, but got none. The man was fuming, but  
he kept his mouth shut. Catherine glanced at Warrick, who nodded to her.  
"You know, Nick said you weren't as tough as you make yourself out to be. I  
guess you're just stupid to boot."

Roger violently got out his chair, knocking it down. Warrick stood up, ready  
to pounce on the man. The instructor took his time looking at each person in  
the room. Then he settled his eyes on the female CSI in front of him. He  
grinned at her, laughing. "Stupid, huh? I guess I wasn't as stupid as your  
boy. Sounds like he got his ass handed to him. Too bad none of you seem even  
close to solving two employee of mine's deaths."

Roger took a deep breath and stretched his arms above him, flexing his  
muscles while doing so. "Seems to me that Stokes should hit the gym a little  
more often."

Catherine was about to give him a seething reply, when she noticed a few  
scratch marks across Roger's forearm near his elbow. She hadn't noticed them  
before, until his sleeve moved, revealing it as he stretched. "Nice set of  
marks there. Do they hurt?"

The instructor looked at them dumbfoundedly. Warrick moved a little closer  
to observe them. Roger glanced at the other CSI and smiled coyly. "Yeah,  
well Michelle likes it rough. Got them all over my other arm and back." The  
muscle man licked his lips obnoxiously. "Of course sweetheart, there's only  
one way you'll see me with my shirt off."

Catherine blinked her eyes, repulsed. Roger smiled and went towards the  
door. He looked over at Warrick and Jim who were itching for a reason to lay  
their hands on him. "I'm going now. I failed a drug test. Whoopee. If that  
was so pressing then I would have been arrested for a crime."

Roger Sikes opened the door and left. Catherine looked at the ceiling in  
astoundment. Warrick sauntered over to the bottle of water and slipped on a  
latex glove. He picked up the drink and looked his partners with  
satisfaction. "I'll take this over to the lab now. See if we can match his  
DNA to the samples that Greg has from the drug test."

Catherine exhaled a long breath she had been holding and wandered over next  
to her partner and Jim. "Yeah, let's hope we bury him with it."

The three were already heading out of the room when they heard a loud  
commotion in the hallway.

* * *

Nick froze in mid step as his mind registered who was coming towards him.  
Nick saw the deep scowl in Sikes' face, and his ears echoed with the sound  
of his own skull being slammed into the lockers over and over again. The  
fear and helplessness rapidly rose like the bile in his throat, threatening  
to choke him. His vision swam as his focus narrowed down solely to the giant  
man heading towards him. All of his aches and pain were pushed into the  
background as Nick's pulse ratcheted into the triple digits in tandem with  
his blood pressure. He simply charged at the man. Nick grabbed the lapels of  
the stunned suspect's jacket and pushed him into the hallway wall.

Greg barely had any time to react, cursing under his breath as he feebly  
tried to pull Nick off of the other man. The lab tech knew that getting into  
a brawl with gorilla boy was not the brightest of moves. Adrenaline and  
anger was fueling Nick's aggression now, but the CSI would not last long in  
a fight with Sikes in his current shape.

Nick held Sikes up against the wall. The veins along Nick's neck popped out  
and the muscles around his jaw tensed. "You have no clue what it means to be  
a man, do you? Attacking people from behind. You're just a 'roided up freak," Nick seethed.

Roger Sikes placed his beefy hands on the CSI's shoulders and shoved him  
hard into the opposite wall. Nick's back impacted it with a thud.

Greg tried to stop the fight by standing in Nick's way. The tech tried to  
subdue the furious criminalist, holding his hands out in front of him.  
"Dude, calm down."

Warrick bolted out of the interview room into the unfolding scene, with  
Brass and Catherine hot on his heels. Warrick grabbed Roger Sikes by the arm  
as the suspect lunged forward to continue the altercation. "Back off!" Warrick thundered.

Jim Brass ordered two police officers who had come over during the scuffle  
to restrain the Ox-man as he tried to plow through Warrick to get to Nick.  
Warrick let go of the suspect's arm and stared down the man as he was being  
led away.

"Get him out of here," Jim ordered, following his officers down the  
corridor.

"This is police brutality!" Roger screamed as he protested being escorted  
out. "He attacked me!"

Catherine and Greg each had a hand on Nick's good shoulder as he tried to go  
after the suspect. "We're going to nail you," he yelled at the muscle man's  
retreating form. Nick brushed past them both, his sling discarded and hanging by his side.

Warrick turned and blocked Nick's path and stared at him. "What the hell is  
going on here man!"

The taller CSI effectively halted his tirade. Nick, still frustrated, turned  
around and punched the wall with his left fist. He unballed his hand and  
laid it flat. He took a few calming breaths and closed his eyes, trying to  
control his emotions. With his adrenaline wearing off he felt all his aches  
and pains return with ferocity. He kept his head down staring at the floor.  
When he forced his eyes open the hallway was spinning.

Catherine gently laid a hand on his back, feeling the muscles there  
trembling from the receding rush. "Nick?"

Warrick walked over, before glaring at Greg who was hovering around the  
other side of Nick. Warrick leaned on his shoulder and studied his friend.

"You feel better now?"

Nick lifted his head and slowly turned around. The vertigo he was  
experiencing made him falter. Catherine and Warrick were both there, each  
grabbing an arm to hold him steady.

"Whoa, take it easy buddy." Warrick looked over at Catherine. "Let's get him  
to a couch or something."

"What's he doing _here _and not at home anyway?" Catherine glanced over at the  
lab tech, who looked all the world like he wanted to be swallowed up by a  
big hole in the ground.

They waited for the CSI to gain a sense of balance, then he shrugged them  
both away. Nick walked into an empty break room under his own power, but  
still flanked by the other three criminalists.

"Don't get mad at Greg, I made him bring me here."

Nick gingerly lowered himself on a sofa, wrapping his left arm around his  
side. Once he sank into the plushness of the couch, he leaned his head back  
and rubbed at his temples again.

Catherine was pissed at Nick for being so stupid, but her heart went out to  
him as she sat next to him. She adjusted his discarded sling strap, "Nick,  
slide your arm into this and use it like you're supposed to," she commanded.

Nick sighed and moved his arm into the sling, the jarring motion sending  
sharp painful sensations through his shoulder. He hissed and glanced up at  
his coworkers. "Sorry I blew up like that. Don't know what came over me."

Warrick towered over the seated criminalist, his foul mood ever apparent.  
"Saving you ass is not something I want to make a habit out of, bro."

"Yeah, yeah." Nick grumbled. The CSI shook his head. "He was just the last  
person I thought I'd run into here."

Catherine crossed her arms in front of her. "You weren't supposed to even be  
here."

"I just wanted to go over the case notes," he whined.

Catherine sighed. "You're going home... Now." She looked over at the lab  
tech. "And Greg is making sure you get there, this time."

"Did you get anything out of him?" Nick knew that they must have come up empty, since the man had walked out of the interview room. The CSI then noticed the sealed water bottle. "What's that?"

Warrick allowed a tiny smile. "DNA comparison."

"Cath, just let me go over to the lab to find out the results," Nick  
beseeched.

"You want to go to the lab, _now_?" Warrick snorted. "After what just happened  
here?"

"Since I'm already caught, yeah." Nick grinned one of his million watt  
smiles.

"No way you're working this case, dude." Warrick shook his head at the  
insanity of the situation.

Nick ran his hand over his face wearily. "Guys, I know all you're just  
trying to help, but..."

Catherine raised her hand to silence him. "Nick you are not medically  
cleared to work this case. Even if you were, you'd be off it anyway because  
of ..."

Nick cut Catherine off. "I'm not going back to my house to sit around all  
day while you guys work _my_ case." Nick got up with a little difficulty, his  
arm protectively close to his ribcage. "If someone tried to kill you, don't  
tell me for one moment that you'd just sit around." Nick locked eyes with  
each person in the room, knowing that if positions were reversed, he'd be  
hearing the same argument.

Greg looked down at his feet, not wanting to be caught by that accusing  
stare. Catherine and Warrick were quiet, each one processing a multitude of  
reasons to counter Nick's statements.

Nick stood there. "I just want to find some answers. I won't process  
anything. Let me go to DNA. There's still stuff to go through from  
Michelle's office. I know you'll need help with that."

Nick could tell he was chiseling away at their protective barrier. "Reading  
files and papers isn't going to compromise the evidence."

Catherine stood up and walked over to Nick. She grabbed his hand. "We're  
just worried about you, Nicky. We almost lost you."

Nick squeezed her hand back. "I realize that more than any of you. I just  
want to be involved in a small way."

Warrick shook his head. Nick Stokes was a fiercely stubborn person, and  
Warrick couldn't help but understand the man's feelings on everything.

Catherine sighed. "All right. Let's go to DNA and process the results.  
Then, you're going home." Catherine saw the other CSI about to protest.  
"We'll see about a few of those files, but let's just take things one step  
at a time."

Nick nodded, happy that he had won out just a little.

* * *

Jim Brass watched as now three officers led Roger Sikes to the door. He  
stood in the entrance of the police station and observed the brooding man  
make his way down the outside steps. As the instructor walked down, Bob  
Fulton could be seen getting out of his car. The physical therapist needed  
to be questioned about prints that were found on the locker.

Bob Fulton looked like a deer caught in headlights as the mammoth instructor  
stomped over towards his direction. Jim almost went over to the two men to  
make sure their wasn't an altercation, but they exchanged very few words.

Roger Sikes looked over his shoulder to make sure he was out of earshot of  
the police detective. He saw Bob squirm from his gaze and the larger man  
went up to his face. "Don't you tell them anything or you'll  
regret it, Bob."

The smaller man nervously shook his head yes, and went past the man to be  
interviewed by the police. Brass wished he had heard what was spoken between  
them.

TBC...

* * *

Author's notes: Broken record time, I'm still amazed at the wonderful response to the story. Hope you liked the little roller coaster ride from this chapter!

Designation:

I may have left you with a few more questions, but the hallway scene I hope was exciting. Thanks again.

Auntypasta:

There are still a decent amount of chapters left, so I hope you can take it :-)

witchsword:

Glad you're computer is working well again. All good things come to those who wait :-)

mudhousejunkie:

I hoped you liked the developments of this chapter and it was a longer one as well. Thanks again.

amarawind:

Here's another fix! Hope you enjoied it!

A.Remains:

Oh faithful one, thanks again for your exctiment, hoped I was able to give more in return.

sokerfreek:

Its nice to see a new face, thanks again for your kindness.

BradyLane:

Wow! That was a wonderful comment, thank you so much. I'm a fan of yours as well, perhaps we can get another chapter from your finale post story:-)

Angleforever:

I hope I was able to convey Nick's reasons for going to LVPD. The man doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts, he is foremost an investiagtor, and this is now very personal. I think he would be even more obbessed with the case. Hope this explains his actions.

csifan:

Was that enough action for you? Tried a bit of tension with this one.

msquirrell:

Nice to see you again and glad you were able to catch up. There was a lot of aniapation for this chapter, hoped you liked it.

staresp4cat:

The mystery is still afoot about Nick's attack, we can only hope the gang will make progress on the case, we'll see next chapter :-)

shoebe:

Hello! Glad you liked Walk in the Woods. Thank you for the feedback. I will contiune to update often.

rozzy07:

I love you girl! You're comments always make my day. The action angst is what I strife for, glad there are others out there with my kind of taste!

groban:

So happy to see you got a new computer. Hehe, I feel like some kind of drug dealer! All of you guys rock!

c1:

Just so happens I just updated. Hehe, you're right he never stood a chance, now let's see what happnes when he takes Nick home :-)


	12. Chapter 12

Nick was regulated to another couch, this time in the break room. The DNA test was being run while he sat impatiently for the results. Once the four of them arrived at the lab, he had been ordered to relax while Hodges could finish up without all of them crowding the room. Greg went back to "oversee" things, so here he was stuck doing the one thing he hated, waiting.

Usually the break area had people bustling in and out all the time. He had been scanning a magazine for at least twenty minutes when he noticed the solitude. He briefly wondered if the room was now off limits. He wouldn't put it past Warrick to threaten the rest of the staff if they entered. He absently flipped through the pages, not really paying attention to the words. He found it hard to concentrate: the letters would blur together, causing the thumping in his head to increase in intensity.

Nick was about to throw the magazine down when he heard someone enter. He looked up to see Gil Grissom looming over him with a very unhappy disposition about him. Nick immediately began to straighten to attention while trying to formulate what he was going to say in his mind.

"Stay put Nick," Grissom told him in one of those tones teachers reserved for lecturing their students.

The graveyard supervisor peered at him through his glasses, pursed his lips as if to speak, then seemed to think better of it. Instead he unfolded a sheet of paper and handed it to Nick wordlessly.

Confused and now on edge, the other criminalist took the offered item and read the information. Nick's brow furrowed, and he blinked twice, as if he had been handed a wrong bank statement. He sat back, disappointed. Whatever had been energizing him for the past hour had dissipated. He lost all his motivation and practically wilted back in the couch.

Nick tilted his head and looked up the older man, his voice despondent. "Roger Sikes isn't a match."

Calmly, Grissom shook his head. "No, he isn't. Had Greg run it twice, but it's still the same result."

The wind yanked out of his sails, Nick ran his hand through his hair. He chuckled lightly. "Back to square one."

Grissom exhaled heavily and sat down next to the younger man. "Not square one. Just back to examining the evidence."

"You knew, didn't you?"

Grissom paused for a moment. "No, I didn't. I also didn't jump to any conclusions."

Nick didn't feel like arguing. In his gut he liked Sikes for the murders and for his own attack. He never felt like his emotions were clouding his judgment. Maybe Sikes was just an asshole plain and simple.

Grissom patted the CSI's knee. "Go home Nick. You look terrible."

Nick raised an eyebrow. He wasn't getting reprimanded for coming back to work. The criminalist guessed that the unexpected results were enough of a punishment in a way. Nick rose from the couch stiffly. He was exhausted and now his body was feeling the effects of his encounter in the hallway. Grissom followed him out of the break room. The supervisor noticed how the younger man used the walls for support, his left hand guiding him along. Grissom stayed close just in case the injured man stumbled.

Greg waited in the parking lot for them, a large box in hand. Catherine had followed through with her promise. She was allowing Nick to take some of the papers and files home they had confiscated from Michelle's office. The lead CSI knew they wouldn't get to those for quite some time, not really thinking any of it was really relevant. She felt it wouldn't hurt for Nick to have something to channel his restlessness as he recovered at his townhouse.

Gil Grissom watched as Nick piled into the lab tech's car and the two men drove away. Grissom took off his glasses and dug his thumb into his forehead; a migraine was threatening. He slid his spectacles back on and looked up at the sky. He was just as upset over the DNA results, but not really surprised for some reason. Warrick and Catherine had not taken the news well and he wasn't about to let them break it to their colleague.

Glumly, the supervisor returned to the lab. His own high profile homicide was wrapping up: a suspect was being hauled in with some very damning evidence. He hoped they could finish the case and take some of the pressure off his shift. Grissom wanted to concentrate more on the Gold Gym murders; something told him that the trail was there. Warrick was right about one thing. The murderer was escalating and he knew another victim wasn't far behind.

* * *

Greg parked the car in front of Nick's townhouse. Nick fumbled with the door handle and struggled to pull his abused body out of the car. He took careful steps towards his door. It was taking every effort to keep himself upright. With sluggish fingers, he punched the digits to his alarm code. The panel buzzed at him when the wrong combination had been entered.

Greg had followed the criminalist, carrying the box of files and things from the hospital. The tech watched his friend waffle with his door alarm.

"Damn it," Nick cursed when it beeped at him again.

Greg brushed past him. "Look you're tired. It's cool. Tell me the number and I'll punch it in."

Nick resigned himself to that fact he was too exhausted to do anything. He thought for a moment, then remembered the correct order. He gave Greg the right numbers and the green light lit up. Greg had the other man's keys and unlocked the deadbolt and swung the door open.

Nick walked in with heavy steps. Greg quickly dropped the box of files on the coffee table and hustled back over to the CSI, who was just now entering the foyer. Greg closed and locked the door, and slid an arm around Nick's waist.

The tech felt his friend flinch. "Just lean on me dude, it's cool."

"I hate this," Nick mumbled, even as he let the wiry tech lead him to his sofa.

Nick grunted slightly as he fell more than sat down; it felt like someone was sitting on his chest, and his back ached without mercy. He closed his eyes and tried to relax tense muscles.

Greg knew his way around the CSI's kitchen and rifled through cabinets. He heated up a kettle of water on the stove and found a box of oatmeal. After a few minutes, he stirred the items together and poured the mixture into a bowl. The tech wandered over to the living room and set the bowl down.

Nick opened up heavy eyelids as he smelled the cinnamon odor. He felt his stomach protest at the thought of food, but when he saw Greg staring at him, he knew he wouldn't have a choice. He started eating, and the tech seemed to relax a little, taking a seat in one of Nick's love chairs.

"Thanks," Nick said in between mouthfuls.

"Hey, oatmeal is easy. I can cook gourmet for the ladies when I have to," Greg replied.

Nick snorted, pushing his bowl aside. He reached out for the box of files, which were immediately snatched out of reach. "Hey, man, I was going to read those."

Greg took the box and placed it on the dining room table. Then he opened the lid and brought out the prescription bags he had stashed inside. He carried the three bottles and set them in a neat little row on the kitchen counter. He read the labels and dosages before bringing back the necessary pills and a glass of water.

Nick looked at him with annoyance. Greg sighed. "Look man. You can't even remember your alarm code. Give your hard head a rest, your brains haven been knocked around enough for a few days." Greg handed his friend the medication. "Pain pills, muscle relaxants, and most importantly heavy duty antibiotics."

Nick obeyed for now and obediently swallowed his meds.

Greg looked around the living room and eyed the X-Box on one of the shelves. "Well, I see what's going to keep me entertained before I head to bed."

Nick raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Um... dude, this isn't a sleep over."

Greg rolled his eyes. "I just finished a double, grabbed you from the hospital, watched you to do a few rounds with Mike Tyson, and brought you home. I am damn sleepy, and there's no way I'm driving back to my place tonight. Anyway, Catherine _and_ Warrick reminded me that CSI's know how to hide the bodies of their victims properly, if you know what I mean."

Nick considered the situation for a moment. "All right, man. Couch is yours."

Nick got up very, very slowly. When it didn't feel like he was going to fall down, he made his way towards his bedroom. "Extra sheets... are... in... the ah..."

"I know where everything is, man. I've crashed here before." Greg fiddled with his hands. He had never been put in charge of the care of a grown man before. Especially a friend and mentor from work.

Nick leaned on the doorframe. "Oh yeah." He pushed the bedroom door almost shut, gingerly crawled into bed and waited for his medication to take effect. It was only a few minutes later when he was out like a light.

Greg wandered into the darkened room in between rounds of Madden to make sure things were all right. Satisfied that his friend was sleeping soundly, he grabbed some linens and sacked out for a few hours himself.

* * *

It was dark, and the sound of his heart beating thundered in his ears. He didn't know where he was, but he knew he needed to get away. He couldn't see where he was going, and his feet were unmoving. His pulse quickened as he tried to draw deeper breaths. However, there wasn't any air to breathe, and he thrashed around trying to fight off whatever was suffocating him. He felt pain rip through his chest as he bolted upwards in bed. That was defiantly a bad move.

Nick tried to slow down his rapid breathing while hugging himself fiercely. His whole upper body was on fire, and his skull felt like it had been cracked wide open. He kept himself perfectly still, till the pain subsided to manageable levels. After several moments, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and groaned when he got up. He stared at his digital clock, the numbers reading 11:00 a.m.

He really needed to log another twelve hours of sleep instead of the eight he got, but there was still a ton of work to do, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep any time soon. The CSI dragged himself out of bed and stood up, waiting for the sudden onslaught of dizziness to go away. He decided to leave on his sweat pants and shirt instead of changing, and shuffled barefoot into his kitchen. He filled a glass of water and drank it greedily to try to relieve his parched throat. Nick forewent the next round of medication so he could stay alert enough to go through the box that was laying in the dining room.

He sat in one if his chairs and stared dumbly towards his living room. Greg Sanders was passed out on the sofa. Nick blinked several times, trying to remember why the lab tech was sleeping at his place. It took a few moments to clear the cobwebs that clouded his mind before he recalled the events of last night. Nick had a table lamp he used sometimes with his laptop.

Sighing, he got out of the chair he had just settled in and grabbed the light from a side table. He traced the cord and unplugged it, trying to keep himself from tumbling to the floor. He brought the lamp over to the table, found another outlet and plugged it back in. He found himself breathing rather heavily from just scurrying around, hutched over, and tried to keep himself from coughing again. His chest still had that heavy laden feeling, and he slumped down in his chair glad he had something to lean against. He clicked the lamp on so he could see a bit better without waking up his guest.

Most of the papers in the box were log books from the club. There were typical records of daily operations, employee files, member applications and payroll. Nick flipped through the employee records with interest. He lay out various client sheets, reviewing any common threads. He noticed one similar theme. Like the primary staff, many of the members and other employees attended the same high school and college that Roger and Michelle had graduated from. This was a very unusual link in a city like Vegas with so many transients. Nick thought that the staff must have recruited from the owner's personal ties from school.

Nick tapped his finger on the table, trying to figure out the relevance of this discovery. He scribbled down notes, and made cross references. The criminalist stretched his neck, the muscles were tight with tension. He'd been scouring the files for over an hour, and he was disgusted at how he was still reeling from the after effects of his attack. He eyed the bottle of muscle relaxant, but pushed the thought of taking them out of his mind. The last time he had broken a rib, his body had endured a fall from a second story window, and it hurt a hell of a lot more in the days afterwards. Sadly, his battered body felt no different this time around.

Nick dug into the box again, pulling out an old yearbook. He flipped through the pages and scanned the "biographies" of each student. There were write ups on Michelle, Blair Olsen, Bob Fulton, Roger, Michael Ross, Nancy Brookes, as well as a few others who worked at the gym. Nick circled each passage, thinking that something might click later on. He discarded the book, when his head started to pound again and his vision blurred slightly. His shoulder burned with pain every time he shifted his arm, but his sling was abandoned somewhere in his bedroom.

His musings were quickly interrupted by a noise from his living room. Greg Sanders had woken up, and it seemed that he was not very much of a morning person. The tech sat up, kicking away the sheets, looking as disgruntled as his discombobulated stuck-his-finger-in-a-light-socket hair. Frowning, the tech stretched and stood up.

Nick couldn't help but chuckle. "Something wrong, G?"

The bleary-eyed man shot his friend a disapproving look. "Just trying to remember where I put my clothes."

Nick laughed a bit more. Greg looked like a lost little kid in his undershirt and boxers. "Why don't you try the love seat, man."

The tech looked over at the furniture dumbly, where he had discarded his clothes only hours earlier. "Yeah. Right. Uh... thanks."

Greg quickly shrugged on his jeans and buttoned up his shirt. He shuffled his way over to the dining room and slumped into one of the other chairs, propping an elbow on the table and cradling his head with his hand. "Whatcha doin?"

Nick smiled. "Going over notes. Why don't you go home and catch some real sleep."

Greg rolled his eyes. "Um, did you forget what happened the last time I listened to you?"

Nick tilted his head sideways in one of his usual gestures that indicated he knew he was wrong.

This silent admittance only seemed to fuel the tech with a cocky sort of self righteousness. "Yeah, I thought so. It's not like I'm not on their 'List,'" Greg hooked two fingers on each hand and gestured in the air to emphasize his meaning.

Nick smiled. "List, boss?"

Greg stood up, crossing his arms in front of him. "It'll be months before I assist in a case with either of them now, after I took you to the station. I'm on their bad side currently."

Nick shook his head, not really buying into the tech's paranoid argument. "I said I was sorry in the car."

Greg wasn't going to back down just yet, he was just getting warmed up. The tech took the opportunity to scan the table with all the papers, books, and notes scattered everywhere. He eyed everything with scrutiny and gazed back at the CSI he was put in charge of.

"How long have you been working on the case?"

Nick ran his hand over his jaw, suppressing an irritated sigh. "A little while."

Greg huffed. "Have you eaten anything? Taken your meds?"

Now the other criminalist couldn't hide his annoyance. Was Greg Sanders, the wild man of DNA, about to lecture _him_? "No, I'm quite capable of taking care of myself. Been doing it for many years now," he replied with a sour expression.

Greg scoffed at him. "You need to eat and take those prescriptions. They are not here just to decorate your kitchen table. Nowhere on the label does it say, if you feel like it, please take these," he rattled off, somewhat miffed.

Nick had about enough of this little argument. "Greggo, I appreciate all this but..." Nick trailed off when he saw Greg take out his cell phone.

The tech pulled out a business card, scanned it, and began punching in numbers.

"Wha... what are you doing, G?"

Greg peered at him as he rested the phone against his ear. "Calling your doctor."

Nick looked at him with a flabbergasted expression. "What?"

Greg seemed like he was waiting for someone on the other end to pick up. "She said if you didn't take care of yourself or follow instructions, that someone should haul you back. You could have easily stayed another day or two in the hospital. She was quite adamant."

Getting out of his chair, Nick held his hands out. "Fine, fine, whatever. Put the damn phone away, man."

Greg searched the other man's face, and clicked the end button. Somewhat satisfied, he tucked the phone away. "Now, let's see about some hot soup and another round of medication."

Nick growled and watched as his guest fixed another bowl and set it in front of him to eat. The older CSI ate it in silence, while the younger man gathered up the sheets he used to sleep in and deposited them in a heap in the hall closet to be laundered later. Greg excused himself to the bathroom, and returned looking a bit fresher after washing up.

Greg looked at his watch and silently calculated a few things. "All right, let's see about those pills."

The tech gathered up the needed meds and handed them to the reluctant man. "You need to lay down and get some more rest. Your doctor would throttle both of us if she knew you were up at all and working on a case."

Nick decided it was time to hold his ground. "I don't want any of the pain ones."

Greg looked ready to protest, but Nick wasn't going to be completely bossed around in his own home. "I'll go lay down for a while and that's it, G."

Greg tapped his foot. "What about half of a muscle relaxant? It won't knock you out, but it'll help you actually sleep."

Nick thought about arguing, but he was feeling a great deal of pain. Greg pulled out a knife and chopped the tablet in half and handed it to the other man.

Nick took and swallowed it. "Happy now?"

"Take the antibiotics, too. You still have inflammation in your lungs and are at risk for infection."

Nick arched an eyebrow. "I didn't see an M.D. attached to the end of your name the last time I checked."

"I also heard you were a CSI level 3, but you don't seem to be exhibiting the sense of one right now," the tech rebuffed.

Nick finished his water and took the horse tablet, wincing when it irritated his already sore throat. Greg simply smiled. Then the tech went about shooing the CSI back to his room. Nick slowly climbed into bed. "You wanna read me a bedtime story too, mom?" Nick snarked in an undertone.

Greg didn't respond to the baited remark. The tech made sure his charge was situated before he closed the door most of the way.

Greg took a few minutes going through Nick's library, looking for something to read. The CSI had a wide assortment of Forensic books, tons of journals, numerous science texts, and an odd selection of sports related reads. Nothing jumped out at him, and he resigned himself to the X-Box sitting on the shelf.

TBC...

* * *

Author's notes: This was one of my favorite chapters to write. Gave Nick some rest and you guys a reprive from the tension for just a little while.

msquirrel:

I'm good and evil? Hehe, thats cool, I do have a split personality. DId you brainstorming seesion go all right? I think maybe it'll apply to the next one I think as the case gets going again. Thanks for the comments!

A.Remains:

You're a doll, thanks for being so loyal.

groban:

Here's your fix AND Nick darling getting to bed, by the way of Greggo! Hehe.

amarawind:

I have quite a few authors on those alert lists. Its neat, you get the link as soon as a chapter is posted, when it takes the site several hours. I used to read fanfic at labs...back in the day. Thanks again, hoped you liked your fix.

csifan:

Thats a true compliment. I like to think I stick to the "CSI world" just cranked up several levels as the plots can be a bit extreme. Hence why I love the show and leave the rest to writing. :-)

mudhousejunkie:

thanks again. The last few chapters have been longer, and I'm glad you liked the hallway scene. Now our fav CSI is at home not getting into trouble...oh no..he'd never do anything ...bad. snickers

staresp4cat:

You have a theroy? Goodie, in a few chapters' well see if you're right.

blaugrana9:

Hello. Glad you caught on here. Hope you enjoy the rest of the story. Thanks for the feedback.

designation:

I liked taking on Catherine in this story. Each new story I try to focus on someone I have not tackled yet. WITW was Warrick and Greg. "Pound of Flesh" was Catherine. I'm working slowly on a purely Nick and Grissom fic...its tougher, so we shall see. Thanks, Its good to know if you're hitting the mark on characterizations, since its a real challenge to capture dialogue and gestures, and personalities. Thanks!


	13. Chapter 13

Greg hadn't noticed the passage of time; he'd been glued to the television screen playing Rugby. He never knew that a sport could be so additive, and had made it all the way to the playoffs. The squeaking of the bedroom door alerted him to the fact that Nick was awake again.

The tech hit the pause button and set the controller down as Nick shuffled his way back to the dining room table. Greg got up and wandered over. He stifled a frown; Nick looked even more exhausted after supposedly getting more sleep. The younger man looked at the clock and noticed that four hours had elapsed. Nick's shoulders were slumped forward, and the rest of his appearance was haggard.

"Rest well?" Greg asked, knowing the answer.

Nick grumbled under his breath. He had lapsed into some weird realm between sleep and a host of nightmares that he couldn't recall. He was tense and overly anxious. The only thing that could distract him from the anxiety of drifting off to sleep and reliving the attack over and over again was to go back and work on the case.

He began sifting through more files, since he wasn't really in the mood to have a conversation with anyone at the moment. In fact, he just wanted to be alone, despite all the best intentions of his house guest.

Greg was attempting to find a topic of conversation when his cell phone beeped. He pulled it out and walked into the living area to answer it. After a few moments he found himself standing next to the other criminalist.

"I've been summoned back to the lab. I've got to rerun some tests for the Sheriff."

Nick tapped his finger on the table. "Go on, Greg. You don't need to baby-sit me anymore." The cranky CSI looked up and saw the worry evident in his friend's demeanor. Not really feeling like an object of scrutiny, Nick tried a different tactic. "Thanks for staying the night, man... it was nice of ya."

Nick watched as the younger man's mood seemed to brighten at the compliment.

"Well, ok. If you need anything, you know you can call me any time." Greg walked awkwardly away and opened the door. "Take care of yourself, dude. People don't get over concussions and stuff as quickly as you see on TV. I'll drop by tomorrow."

Nick waved him off. "Sure thing, man. Thanks."

The CSI waited till the door closed and thanked the heavens he could work alone in peace. He really liked Greg. They hung out sometimes after work, but right now, he couldn't afford the distraction. He went back to studying his notes. Finding where he left off, he continued to pore over dozens of more files and paper work. He cruised on for another couple of hours, when his body reminded him why he wasn't supposed to be doing anything more strenuous then sleep.

His headache came back in full migraine force, causing him to throw down his pen in frustration. He couldn't seem to remember the information from one paragraph to the next. His couldn't decipher his own handwriting, and the pain in his side had become more pronounced and sharp.

Deciding he needed a break, Nick headed over to his bathroom to take a shower. It seemed like a better alternative than taking any of the meds that would cloud his ability to analyze anything. However, he had to endure another tortuous ritual of relieving himself, with the pain in the middle of his back reminding him of his angry kidneys. With that ordeal complete, he turned on his shower. Nick gingerly stood under the water, holding onto the railing so he wouldn't fall if he got lightheaded.

He remained under the spray for a while, trying to ease some of the soreness he was experiencing. Once he'd decided he was finished, he stepped out of the shower, holding onto the towel bar for support. Careful not to fall, he slipped on his sweatpants. He stared at his discarded shirt, decided it was too much effort to put it back on, and wandered back to his living room.

The CSI continued to wrack his brain over the yearbook when he heard a knock at his door. Nick sighed; he'd wondered how long it would be before someone "else" came by to check on him. He stared at his guest for several moments after opening the door, seemingly lost in the fog of pain from not taking his meds.

"You going to let me in?" Catherine asked after waiting patiently for the invite.

"Huh? Oh yeah." Nick stood aside while the other criminalist walked in.

"Haven't been to your new place since we helped you move," she looked around. "You got some new furniture... nice."

Nick cleared his throat. "Ah... Thanks." He raised an eyebrow at his friend's amused expression. "What's so funny?"

Catherine gave her coworker an appraising look. Nick was shirtless and apparently still slightly wet from a shower. "Just checkin ya out. Very nice," she commented with a nod at his chiseled abs and chest.

The Texan smiled. "Sexual harassment in my own home." He slowly shook his head.

Catherine laughed. "I'm trained to be observant. You've put on some more muscle Nicky," she teased.

Now his cheeks began to blush slightly. "Lemme go find a shirt."

All the gentle ribbing aside, Catherine eyed her friend critically. He stood slightly hunched over and treaded very carefully around. The stitches and bruising on his forehead were in stark contrast to his pale skin. It looked like he wasn't taking the time to rest properly, and she idly debated about talking to him about the real reason why she had stopped by.

Nick returned, after changing into a dark green button up shirt. It was a lot easier to change into, then to battle with his normal T-shirts with his injuired shoulder. Catherine had one of those looks in her eyes. It was a bit early to be visiting him, so his mood quickly shifted towards more of a guarded one. He wandered over to his sofa and sat down, looking at her expectantly.

"You got some news?"

Catherine smiled; she could never put one past Nick. "I got a call from Grissom. Your clothes were checked out by Trace earlier, but he had them go over them more closely with a fine tooth comb."

Nick sat forward. "They find something?"

"Hodges found the slightest trace of an unidentified substance on the back of your shirt. He went over it, and discovered that it was some anti-inflammatory cream." Catherine tilted her head, "Does that... bring up any memories? Or... mean anything to you?"

Nick scrunched his face. "The suspect got it on the back of my shirt?"

"Yeah," Catherine nodded.

Thinking in a methodical way, the CSI postulated, "He could've had it in his hands when he grabbed my shoulders or anytime during the scuffle." Nick tried to concentrate, but all he had were fuzzy recollections.

Catherine shook her head. "The cream was not found on the top of your shirt." She paused thinking..."I'd say from what Gil told me, that it was right around where that nasty bruise is on your back."

Nick subconsciously stretched, the muscles there had ached non-stop since he got home. "The bruise suggests that the perp held me over the whirlpool with his... knee."

Nick sat forward, something in the back of his mind was nagging him. When an idea finally struck, he got up carefully and walked over to his dining room table. He scooped up the yearbook and flipped over the pages, his eyes searching for a specific paragraph.

Catherine followed him over, curious about his reactions. She saw him thumb through a book, completely ignoring her while deep in concentration. "Want to clue me in on something?"

Nick didn't reply at first, too absorbed in his own actions. He turned the book towards his partner. "Bob Futon's entire high school career is listed in the back. If you look, there's nothing exciting or spectacular. He was in the quizbowl for two years and was a math tutor. Other than that... nada."

"Bob Fulton wasn't a great achiever. What's the point?" Catherine looked at the CSI expectantly.

Nick had that expression that was usually reserved when he found that elusive clue that usually got a suspect put behind bars. His face was serious, his eyes a bit darker than normal. His voice always got lower, his twang heavier when he spoke. "Fulton has bad knees. He had a hard time sitting down a few nights ago when we interviewed him."

"Yeah, I remember that."

Nick nodded. "He told us that he blew out his knees playing too many sports in high school." Nick pointed to the bio. "This guy was a nerd; he wasn't an athlete of any sort."

"He lied to us about throwing the pigskin around... that doesn't mean he's our guy." Catherine didn't sound like she believed her own argument, but the lead CSI didn't want to jump to conclusions again. She waited... hoped that Nick had something more to add.

Sensing her doubt, Nick flipped through a few more pages, stopping again on a specific one. "This is what Roger Sikes and Blair Olsen looked like in High School."

Catherine studied a picture of the two teenagers posing in a typical macho way, arms pumped and grinning ear to ear. Both guys, even at a young age, looked brawny. Each one was sporting nice muscular arms and legs. They looked like typical boys who had hit a growth streak. You could picture them back in high school, and transpose several years of maturity and regular work out programs to produce the larger sized men now.

Catherine raised an eyebrow and shot Nick a look, asking if there was a point. Nick answered her silently by searching for yet another entry. He turned the yearbook back towards her, his finger resting on a picture on Bob Fulton. The physical therapist was a very scrawny, geeky-looking man with a bowl haircut. Catherine gazed at Nick, his eyes reflected back at her, bright with certainty.

"It takes a lot of dedication to put on about sixty, or seventy pounds of mass and muscles. Of course it helps if your work out program includes performance enhancing steroids. You see, besides bulking up, and increased strength, abuse of heavy dosages of steroids over a long period of time can lead to increased acts of aggression, hair loss, and... severe joint pain," Nick explained.

"Bad knees, " Catherine stated, looking a little more convinced. The lead criminalist also recalled Fulton's little outburst when Nick snapped at him during the interview. "He might also have a key to the back door."

Nick tilted his head, "Or access to a copy of one."

Not wanting to get ahead of herself again, Catherine continued to put more pieces together. "It would explain his prints on the locker that you found the now missing bag of pills."

"Yeah." Nick's thoughts strayed a bit. "What would make Bob Fulton want to kill his coworkers and ex-classmates, though?"

Catherine glanced at her watch. "I might just ask him that, when Brass and I go over to his house."

Nick's face clouded over, looking more downcast than ever. He looked back at Catherine, his mouth a thin line of discontent. Catherine picked up on the sudden coldness in the townhouse, the anger radiating from the man next to her.

"I know you hate not being involved, but there are good reasons for that." Catherine explained, her voice softer.

Nick looked annoyed at that tone she was using. "Ya know...you came over her to check up on me and see," Nick opened his arms wide, "And I'm not falling apart."

"Nick..."

"No. I bet you thought you were going to mother me or something, and guess what? I'm just fine and making progress on the case." Nick took the yearbook and violently slammed it on the table. He stalked past a shocked Catherine, his back turned, his left arm hugging his right.

Catherine didn't expect such an outburst, but she wasn't about to bear the brunt of his anger. "Nick, you're off the case and you're just going to have to deal with it." She closed the distance between them and stood in front of him. "I didn't come here to baby you. I was here to check on a friend and if that hurts your male pride, well then I'm sorry."

Catherine watched as the criminalist turned away from her in embarrassment. She continued, her tone not as sharp. "I know this sucks and... it's not fair... but Nicky, let the rest of us handle this. " She lightly touched his shoulder, "You trust us, don't you?"

Nick looked at the ceiling, then turned his head to face the senior CSI. "I do... and I know."

Catherine rubbed his back. "Nick, you tend to hold things inside. If you don't talk to people, or let us be there for you, then all that bottled up emotion is just going to eat you up alive."

Nick sighed. He didn't discuss his problems, they were his to deal with in his own way. It wasn't pride It wasn't shame. It was just his own coping mechanism. "Just call me when you know more, okay? I'll sack out on the couch or something."

Catherine didn't expect that he'd just open up about his fears, but she hoped he would remain somewhat calm during the rest of this case. "Good. Now go back to bed and get some sleep. Take care of yourself now, so you can be back at work at a hundred percent."

Nick tried hard not too looked too chagrined. "Okay."

Catherine gave the younger man a quick hug, careful not to squeeze too tight. Then she left the criminalist alone to ponder things while the rest of the team scrambled to follow the small lead they'd uncovered tonight.

TBC...

* * *

Author's notes: The plot thickens. Enjoy the last non tense chapter while you can. We begin one last trip on that bumpy roller coaster of tension in the upcoming new segements. Again fun chaper for me to write, anyone guess what my personal favorite part was:-)

Charmboy and Lil! Thanks for the feedback, hope this update was soon enough.

Designation:

You don't have to worry, Nick will always be a central theme in my work! Thanks to being so faithful to the story, I'm glad the characters hit home, makes me smile.

mudhousejunkie:

You shall see more action soon, still had to give Nick a little more of a break. Thanks again. Gave you some more clues on the suspect, should nto be long now. :-)

staresp4cat:

I wish I could take him home too. :-) Thanks again, you're such a longtime supporter!

csifan:

Do you have esp or something? We think very alike! Since you've guessed or hinted to wanting to see something happen, and its in my next chapter! If you do have esp, then you might sense that our favorite CSI might just get into a little trouble soon, but I won't say how. However it does have something major to do with that stubborn streak of his.

Loozy:

Nice to see a another new face. I thought the story needed a little release, I love writing Greg and Nick! Hoped this helped out with all the angst, since it usualy means something is around the bend.

Shacky:

You are such a pal, Im glad we started e-mailing each other from csifiles! You rock, thanks for all your lovely comments. You're reviews can never be too long! I love some of those line as well! I'm kind of partial to Nick's MD comments and Nick's rebuff to that.

A.Remains:

Breath girl, its all right for now. :-P Gave you another light chapter with some casefile thrown in :-)

Groban:

Like I mentioned I had a blast writing the last chapter. Nick and Greg come so natural, made me start thinking of a plot for those two in the future. Tried to pace this chapter out as well. Thanks again.


	14. Chapter 14

Catherine and Jim were standing in the parking lot of Bob Futon's apartment complex. The lead CSI was eager to get things going with the interview. When she had updated Grissom on the situation, the supervisor had insisted that he meet them there. Catherine wasn't thrilled with the idea of his tagging along. They were merely following a big hunch, and there wasn't really a need for the three of them to crowd the suspect. Secretly, she wondered if Gil didn't trust her to handle things after their bumble with Sikes.

It didn't take long before the older CSI drove up; he'd all ready informed her that Warrick was not going to be a part of this interview. Apparently Grissom had sent the brooding man home. Warrick usually handled his emotions well during sensitive cases, but the strong-willed criminalist was very much like his best friend, Nick... stubborn. His anger had no direction once they'd dismissed Sikes as a suspect in Nick's attack. Grissom didn't want things to get mishandled because of hot tempers.

The three of them stood in front of Bob Fulton's door, waiting for him to answer after several knocks. There was noise blaring from a television. The sounds of some action movie could be heard, including rocketing gunfire and explosions.

"Maybe he can't hear us through all that racket," Jim suggested.

Grissom tilted his head and tried to peer through the window. The shades were drawn and he couldn't detect any movement from within. Catherine placed her hands on her hips as she considered their next move... since they were here without a warrant. She looked over when she saw an older man walking towards them.

The elderly man moved slowly, a very angry expression on his face. "You guys friends of Bob's?"

"No, sir. I'm Detective Jim Brass, and these two are Gil Grissom and Catherine Willows with the Vegas crime lab," he explained, flashing his badge.

The man looked unimpressed. "You're the police?"

Jim looked over at the two CSI's, raising an eyebrow in mild annoyance. "Yeah."

"Well, good, it's about time. Sam Perkins, property manger. I've called the cops for hours over all of this damn noise," he complained.

"Do you know if Bob is home, sir?" Grissom asked.

The old man grumbled. "Hell no. He left a while ago, leaving his damn TV on. The volume is causing headaches, and I've got tenants screaming at me to do something 'bout it. I've warned him time and time again about the noise levels, but he never listens." Perkins eyed up the trio. "You guys are with the police. Can you go in there and turn the damn thing off?"

Jim's smile was very shark-like. "We can with your permission."

The crotchety man's eyes lit up. "Hell yeah. Do whatever you want." The man fiddled with his keys and opened the door.

Jim kept his hand on his gun and entered first. "This is Detective Brass with the Las Vegas Police. Anyone home?" Receiving no answer, Jim scanned the living room and proceeded deeper into the apartment. After several minutes he reappeared at the front door. "No one's home. It's all clear."

Catherine and Grissom walked in; the supervisor turned off the TV with a gloved hand. Bob Fulton's place was small. His living room was sparsely furnished, with a couch, a chair, a few book shelves and his television set. Grissom looked around, not really sure what he was searching for.

Catherine wandered into the kitchen. There was a juicer and a blender on one of the counter tops. She glanced around, knowing they really weren't allowed to dig through things, even with the super's permission. Anything they gathered would be thrown out in court. As she fiddled with a few fitness magazines on the kitchen table she heard Jim shout at them.

"You guys might want to check out the second bedroom."

Catherine followed the sound of the Detective's voice and met Grissom in the master bedroom. Fulton used the bigger room for a work out area. There was a weight bench, a treadmill, a boxing bag hung in the corner as well as various small weights and dumbbells. Catherine stood next to Jim who was looking at a writing desk. Laying right in the middle in plain sight were several bags of pills.

Grissom came over, and arched his eyebrow. "Hmmm, wonder what these could be?" he said with a mild note of sarcasm.

Jim opened a few drawers, now having probable cause on his side, and whistled. He started lining up several bottles of antacids, each one containing a decent amount of tablets.

Grissom picked one up and unscrewed the cap. Inside were an ocean of blue pills. "I don't think these will settle an upset stomach."

Catherine looked at him in disbelief. "How much steroids does one guy need?"

Grissom finished placing the bottles on top of the desk, counting a total of four. "Bob Fulton looks like one very good customer." Grissom peered at his partner with the same surprised expression she had.

Catherine took a deep breath and expelled it. "We were totally on the wrong track."

Grissom pulled open the middle drawer as Catherine began scanning the far wall that was plastered with pictures and papers. The supervisor rummaged through the drawer and pulled out a yearbook that was stuffed inside.

He flipped through the front pages of the ragged looking memento. Inside were the usual well wishes. Grissom studied the different pieces of handwriting. He chewed on his lips as he processed this new information.

"Gil, you might want to take a look at this," Catherine called out.

Grissom held out a finger, signaling her to hold on, while he continued absorbing the different scribbled notes inside the book.

"Grissom, this is important," Catherine hissed at him impatiently.

The older criminalist closed the book and walked over with an annoyed look. "What is it, Catherine?"

Grissom took a small flashlight and shined it all over the wall. There were dozens of photos of Michelle Wilson, Roger Sikes, Nancy Brookes, and Blair Olsen as well as other staff members. The pictures ranged in age. Some appeared recent while others looked dated from high school. Large black X's were drawn over some pictures, others were obviously ripped in pieces and then taped back on. Some of the photos had the eyes scratched out.

Grissom scanned the wall, his mouth hanging open slightly. There were articles about the gym, personal profiles about the owners and staff. One article in particle focused on the uniqueness of the employees. The writer concentrated on the "family aspect" of the business. Michelle Wilson had made it a point to hire people from her high school. It was hard to read in some spots. The word LIES was written all over in places.

Catherine looked at her boss and back at Jim, who was reading the wall as well. "Bob Fulton was obsessed with his ex-classmates."

Grissom nodded. "Well, from what I can tell from his yearbook, it would seem that many memories were not all that pleasant."

Seeing her confused expression, Grissom handed over the yearbook. Inside were notes that taunted the geeky man.

"'Thanks for all the laughs, Bob, maybe one day you'll become somebody,'" Catherine read out loud. "'Stop pretending you're something you're not. Go back to you textbooks, geek boy,'" Catherine continued to read some of the hate filled words of a bullied teen. She looked at the supervisor in shock. "Why would he let them write such things?"

The corner of Grissom's mouth twitched. "Maybe he didn't. If you're going to write something hateful to another person, you do it when they're not looking."

Grissom spoke like a man who stung from such an experience. Catherine exhaled a heavy breath. "Only cowards write anonymous crap like this."

"I'm sure Fulton knew who each one of them was that wrote that stuff. All he had to do was close his eyes and hear their voices in his head. We use the same words written or verbal," the supervisor explained.

Catherine flipped through more pages, noting that some of the sports highlights were circled as well. Each time a picture of Roger or Walter appeared, their faces were blacked out. EGOMANIACS was scrawled in large letters. She continued to thumb through until she came upon another note that was circled.

"'Thanks for all of your help during my hard times in math. You're a sweet man, Bob, and I would never had made it this far without you. If you ever need anything don't' hesitate to ask. Truly, Michelle.'" Catherine read the only nice thing written in the book; obviously it had been cherished.

Catherine looked at Grissom, his face reflecting a mixture of sorrow and alarm. "We'd better alert Roger Sikes and Michelle Wilson of this. Who knows who his next target might be," the supervisor warned.

Jim spoke over his shoulder as he stepped out of the room to make a call. "I'll get a warrant for this place. So you guys can start processing it."

"Look at this, Grissom." Catherine found a pair of gloves thrown carelessly aside next to some dirty sweatpants. She picked them up and motioned towards a battered lamp cord. She arched her eyebrow. "This might be the murder weapon, and those gloves might have been what was used to cover his prints."

Jim looked at the duo for a moment. "One thing I don't understand. I've seen this guy," the man chuckled, "he doesn't seem the type to be able to over power and murder two people, let alone take down Nicky."

"Its not about muscles and size, its about rage, Jim. One thats on over charge, almost super human for several mintues depending on themix of drugs." Grissom shrugged.

Catherine stood next to her boss. "The guy's short, but very compact. Did you ever notice the size of his arms? The man's all upper body strength."

Jim didn't comment further, and just contiuned to scan the room

Grissom dug into his kit and brought out his camera. The CSI began taking photos of the wall, still fascinated by the whole thing. Catherine was moving towards her kit when her cell phone beeped. She went to the far corner of the room by the window to answer it.

Grissom was too engrossed with the wall of weird to pay much attention to the one sided conversation. His head whipped around when he heard Catherine raise her voice several octaves in anger.

"What do you mean you and Nick are heading over to Gold's Gym? What the hell is going on, Warrick?" echoed in the room.

Pissed off, she flipped it shut, shaking her head. She looked at her boss. "You are so not gonna to believe this," she seethed, obviously worried.

TBC...

* * *

Author's notes: And so it begins :-)

Tanquay:

I heard abou that blizzard. Glad you were able to sit and read it all at once. You did't have to wait like everyone else! Thanks for taking the time to say hello, good to see new faces.

Groban:

We'll see the trouble coming up! Good to hear from you.

amrawind:

Here is another chapter to feed your addiction. Hoped you enjoyed it.

witchsword:

Hmmm, if Nick was a pateint of mine, I don't know if I could keep myself away :-) No matter how grumpy he was. However Greg had to firgure out how to handle the stubborn one, he did good!

csifan:

Thanks again! This chapter was just the begining of the last roller coster ride, expect some action coming up. Hope you can hold on till then.

staresp4cat:

I did enjoy having Catherine ogoling at Nicky myself. How could one not, dripping wet from a shower. Whoo!

rozzy:

Yes indeed, that was a nice peice of scenery. Maybe I'll try some more heat during some other story.

Charli:

Thank you. I guess I'm obsessed. There only a few chapters left, I wouldn't want to drag anything out. I hope the pace was done well, thanks again.

Pietrabob:

WOw! Thank you. I'm happy that the details make everything seem more real. I try to do that since I kind of branch off from the show plotwise.

Designation:

Hehe everyone wants more tension, well your wish is my command. Just wait just a little longer.


	15. Chapter 15

Grissom was too engrossed with the wall of weird to pay much attention to the one sided conversation. His head whipped around when he heard Catherine raise her voice several octaves in anger.

"What do you mean you and Nick are heading over to Gold's Gym? What the hell is going on, Warrick?" echoed in the room.

Pissed off, she flipped it shut, shaking her head. She looked at her boss. "You are so not gonna to believe this," she seethed, obviously worried.

* * *

Nick absently flipped through channels on his television. He stopped on a basketball game and watched it without much interest. He sipped on a bottle of water, mulling over the idea of going back to bed. He was eager to hear about what was transpiring at Fulton's, but he kept himself from calling Catherine to get any kind of progress report.

Feeling restless, he got up and headed towards his dining room table, where the box of files still lay taunting him. He pulled out a file when he heard his cell phone ring. "Stokes."

_"Mr. Stokes?"  
_  
The criminalist didn't recognize the female voice. "Yeah. Who's this?"

_"It's Michelle...Michelle Wilson,"_ a frightened voice responded.

Confused and caught off guard, Nick dropped the file. "Ms. Wilson? What's going on? Is there a problem?"

_"I-I had your number and didn't know who else to call."  
_  
Perplexed, Nick continued. "What's the matter?"

_"Something is going on between Roger and Bob and I don't know what to do."  
_  
Nick started to pace. "Where are you?"

_"I'm driving back to the Gym. Roger got a call from Bob and he started screaming at him over the phone. I... I don't know what's going on."  
_  
"Roger is meeting Bob Fulton at the gym. Do you know why?" Nick had a bad feeling.

_"Mr. Stokes...Nick... I don't know what's happening. I don't even know why I'm calling you. But I'm afraid for Bob. He's a decent guy... he got Roger all riled up and I'm afraid what he'll do to him."  
_  
Nick didn't want to tell the woman that he felt it might be the other way around, and that Roger Sikes was the one possibly in a lot of danger. Nick wasn't sure what to do; Michelle had proven to be manipulative before. "Maybe you should call the police."

_"Look, Nick, I know I can come off as an egotist, or brash, but that's the job. I live in a man's world. However, I know what kind of trouble Roger's been in with you guys. I don't want him to go to jail. Is that so hard to understand? Roger is a wonderful man deep inside; he's just doesn't control his emotions very well, and I'm really afraid he's going to hurt Bob."  
_  
Nick closed his eyes; he couldn't believe his own words. "Don't go inside, Michelle. I'm on my way. You got it?"

There was a pause. _"I'll wait for you outside. I've still got my key."  
_  
"Good. Don't do anything. I should be there in about fifteen minutes." Nick hung up and stared at his phone. He hadn't heard back from Catherine and for all they knew, she was on another goose chase. Nick's instincts told him that even though he'd made a mistake about Sikes, things definitely did not feel right about Fulton.

Nick debated over calling Brass. He worried that this might turn out to be nothing but another baseless hunch. If things didn't look good when he arrived, he'd call the police to handle things. He went to his bedroom and carefuly changed out of his sweatpants into some worn out jeans. Nick returned to his foyer and gathered up a few things. He put his cell on the clip of his belt. He went to his end table and pulled out his back up Glock, checked for ammunition and scooped up the holster. Then he carefully slid his leather jacket on, trying not to jar his shoulder. He took his keys from the drawer and headed outside.

Nick was almost at his truck when a familiar car pulled up next to him. A very surprised Warrick got out of the car and gave him a suspicious glare. "Where you think you're goin?"

Nick didn't want to argue. "Don't have time to explain."

Warrick stood in front of his friend. The taller man eyed his partner and noted the gun under his jacket. His eyes went wide in surprise. "What are you packing heat for, man?" Alarm bells went off in his head. "What the hell's goin' on?"

Impatient and not feeling like being second-guessed, Nick brushed past his partner. "You can come with me if you want, but I'm leaving."

"You've been out of the hospital for one day. Don't you think you're pushing it a bit much?" Warrick said, exasperated.

"Sometimes we have to follow our instincts, bro. No matter how unreasonable they seem."

Warrick could sense the seriousness of the situation. He knew that tone. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the man's keys. "Fine. I'm driving. You shouldn't be behind the wheel." Warrick wasn't about to argue with Nick, since he recognized the expression on his face. When Nick Stokes got something in his head, there was no way of arguing with the man. Warrick felt whatever the situation was, then he'd have his friend's back.

Satisfied that there would be no further arguments for now at least, Nick climbed into the passenger side of his truck. He wasn't about to protest about driving. He hadn't taken his pain meds since he'd come home. His adrenaline starting to kick into overdrive, Nick chose his words wisely. He explained to Warrick their current destination as they drove off towards a confrontation they would soon not forget.

* * *

Warrick pulled into Gold Gym's parking lot and turned off the engine. Michelle Wilson was coming towards them at a panicked speed. Both men got out of the truck. The distraught woman was talking a mile a minute, her hands wildly animating with every word.

Nick tried to calm her down. He gently put his hands on each of her shoulders, trying to get her to focus on him. "Ms. Wilson... Ms. Wilson... Calm down."

Warrick stood next to the frantic woman, warily scanning the building for any signs of a disturbance. His eyes darted back and forth between his partner and their surroundings.

Michelle took a deep breath and ran a hand through her frazzled hair. " I don't know where they are. That crime tape is still on the front entrance."

"Tell me about the conversation between your boyfriend and Bob," Nick said, trying to gather more detailed information about the situation.

The hotheaded side of her personality began to seep through, her tone becoming more annoyed and hostile. "I told you. Roger got a phone call, and after a few minutes he started to get really pissed off, screaming at Bob." Michelle explained, stealing a glance towards the building.

Nick nodded, trying to encourage her to go on. "All right. So he got upset over the phone. Why the panic?"

"Yes, damn it! Roger was cursing and kept screaming Bob's name." Michelle wrung her hands in an attempt to compose herself. "Roger kept threatening him over the phone about some secret. Then when he hung up, Roger wouldn't talk to me. Told me to mind my own business and that Bob wanted to meet him. Roger said he was going to take care of things once and for all."

Warrick kept quiet, letting the woman rattle on about the phone conversation. The CSI was debating about calling the Cavalry now. Nick had shared his suspicions about Bob Fulton on their way over in the truck. Bob Fulton was a man that should be dealt with very carefully. The CSI pulled his parnter aside to speak to him.

Nick looked at his partner. "If they didn't go through the front entrance, then they must have gone towards the back so they wouldn't draw much attention."

Warrick took a deep breath. "Yeah. That'd be a good guess. I really think we should call Brass about this. Have them drive over. This isn't our gig, man."

Nick looked like he was actually be considering the notion when Michelle stalked over. Her frantic disposition quickly morphed into her usual temperamental self. "I called you guys to help. If you can't..."

All three flinched when the sound of gunfire pierced the evening air. Nick and Warrick instinctively pulled out their weapons as they searched for the sound of the shot.

Warrick looked at a shocked Michelle. "Get behind the truck!" he commanded. He whipped out his cell phone, quickly communicating the need for police assistance and the address of the Gym.

Michelle Wilson hid behind the vehicle as Nick trained his weapon towards the open area of the building. He kept his gun in his right hand, his left one grasping it to keep it steady. Alll trace of pain seemed to have magically vanished when his pulse shot up in response to the shot. He glanced over at his partner. "That sounded like it came from the back of the building."

Warrick squinted in the darkness as he strained to hear any other signs of a commotion. "I called it in, police are on the way."

Warrick locked eyes with the other criminalist, knowing exactly what was running through his friend's mind. Even though they were not cops, it was their duty to contain the scene. They were part of law enforcement.

Warrick shook his head. "This isn't about guilt, man. It's not our thing."

Nick inched his way onto the sidewalk. "If a citizen is in danger, we should do something about it. No matter how much of a jackass he is."

"We should wait." Warrick knew that Roger Sikes was a complete asshole, but his partner was torn between guilt and the need to see this case to a conclusion.

"Come on, man. I don't want to be the one who could've done something and didn't while a crime was being committed." Nick tilted his head towards the building.

"Can you really do this? You got to be able to aim, Nick," Warrick warned.

"I can do this."

Warrick exhaled heavily. "All right, let's go around the back. I'll lead the way."

Nick looked over his shoulder. "Stay put Ms. Wilson, till the police get here. Tell them what's going on when they arrive."

Both CSI's headed towards the back of Gold's Gym.

It seemed like forever, but in reality it had only been two or three minutes at the most before both criminalists had reached the back entrance of the gym. Warrick noticed that the crime scene tape had been stripped away. Warrick placed his back against the brick wall and swung open the door. He could hear some muffled voices, but nothing that he could understand.

He quickly poked his head into the hallway before entering the corridor. Nick held steady behind him, and both men took flanking positions around the door that led to the Olympic sized swimming pool. From the small hall, both CSI's could hear Bob Fulton's loud, raging voice.

Nick's heart was pounding and sweat began to trickle down his forehead, prickling his skin. His right shoulder was screaming at him. Torn muscles and ligaments were being taxed beyond their means. Despite the pain, he kept his arms steady, his gun trained in front of him. His side was a different story; it felt like a sharp knife was stabbing him constantly, but he ignored it as much as he could. He glanced at Warrick. Silently they communicated with each other. Warrick would slowly open the door to see where the subjects were. Based on those positions, and the immediate danger of the victim, they would move in.

Warrick twisted the door knob with his left hand while using his right foot to slowly push it ajar.

"Every day you made my life into a living nightmare. It was your goal to mock me...to belittle me. Why? Huh? To prove you were the big man on campus. ... Couldn't take that I had the attention of your girl?... Look at you now... how does it feel to be under the mercy of someone else? To be under the mercy of... me!" Fulton sneered, his voice dripping with venom.

Warrick saw Roger Sikes in a fetal position on the floor with blood streaming from his leg. He was clutching his knee, his face scrunched in agony. Fulton was aiming the gun at the prone man, pacing back and forth beside him.

"Answer me!" Fulton kicked the injured man in the leg, causing Sikes to scream.

"Stop it!" Roger begged, his voice cracking.

Warrick and Nick burst through the door, their weapons aimed at the physical therapist.

"Drop your weapon and put your hands up!" Warrick commanded.

The CSI's moved in as close as they dared, taking positions about three feet from the two men. Fulton was sneering in glee over his victim as Roger lay near the edge of the pool. He looked up weakly at the criminalists as they rushed in, his face etched in pain.

Fulton looked up in shock, but kept his weapon pointed at his hostage. His face flushed, he shouted. "Get out of here! This has nothing to do with you!'

"Lower you weapon, Fulton," Nick ordered this time.

Fulton smiled coldly. "I knew you'd side with him. All of you sports jocks stick together."

Warrick held the suspect in his sights. "Mr. Fulton..."

"No! No talking me down. I've been under the boot of these people my whole life. Their... their egos... their pretensions. Always better than everyone and boy did they let you know." Fulton shook his head violently, but his gun never wavered from its target.

"All those years in high school, all I ever wanted was to be left alone. I never could get through a single damn day without being pushed around or shoved into my locker, by the likes of him." Fulton stared at Sikes with an expression of revulsion.

Nick's arms began to tremble from the strain. He adjusted his grip on his weapon. "Bob, we can talk about this. But you have to drop that gun and step away from Sikes."

Fulton looked at Nick, the veins popping along his face. "You were one of them. You never had to endure the humiliation, the trauma of going to school in fear. But I knew what I had to do. Become one of you, embrace that lifestyle so I could enter your world."

Nick looked over at Warrick. Bob Fulton was definitely not rooted in reality any more. He had to do something to keep him talking while they waited for the police to arrive. "Our world?" Nick asked, hoping to keep the man's attention on him.

"Your world!" Fulton shouted. "Full of vanity, full of pointless competition. It's all you people think about. So, I used it to my advantage. Started on an aggressive routine. Bulked myself up so that Roger and the others would accept me. It didn't matter how many pills I took, or how many sits ups I endured."

Fulton peered down at his victim, and then back at Nick. "Roger was so full of himself. Just like the others, it was pretty easy to surprise him." He looked at the injured man. "Got you real good, eh? Shot you in the knee," Fulton laughed. "Looks like you won't be using that leg for a while. Or anything else," Fulton said, his voice trailing off.

Warrick inched slightly closer. This situation was becoming more volatile by the second. He noticed Nick's gun falter ever so slightly. It was taking everything in the CSI's power to keep his arms straight in front of him for so long. His legs were shaking, obviously straining to keep him upright. This had to be ended soon, before Nick collapsed. Which could easily set Fulton off, too.

"Just put your gun down, Bob. You got your revenge. I mean what would Michelle think of all this?" Nick was pretty sure the therapist thought of the attractive woman in a different light.

Fulton was becoming more unstable, shouting at Nick. "Shut up! Don't talk about her! You're one of _them_. I heard Roger talking about you, another damn football player. How many lives did you ruin every day? Who did you pick on the most?"

Nick kept his voice calm, every minute they spoke was another one that kept Roger Sikes alive. "I was actually a science major. I played football, but I also studied very hard every day," he tried to reason with the man. The criminalist wanted to make Fulton see him as something other than the stereotype he was being pegged for.

"I want you two to lower your own weapons." Fulton had contained himself briefly and looked at the criminalists. "If you don't, then I'll kill him," Fulton nodded to an almost unconscious Sikes on the floor.

"We can't do that," Warrick calmly stated. The investigator knew it was two against one. Those were never good odds to go against, even an insane person could figure that out.

"What the Hell is going on!"

Both CSI's saw Michelle Wilson at the other side of the pool. She must have entered through the front entrance. The woman took one look at her boyfriend and covered her mouth in shock. Her fear quickly turned to fury as she ran over to tend to Sikes.

"Michelle, Stop!" Nick shouted.

It was too late; Fulton grabbed her by the neck and roughly pulled her in front of him. He aimed his gun at her temple, digging it hard into her skull. "You know what? I changed my mind. You want Roger so bad... then you can have him."

With strong arms, Fulton kept an iron grip around Michelle, and kicked a semi-conscious Sikes into the pool.

Bob began to back up with the gym owner as his shield. "Protect and serve, guys," he mocked as he made his way out of the room.

Nick moved forward, his Glock still trained on the retreating man. Warrick got to the edge of the pool as Roger Sikes began to struggle in the water. Sikes weakly stayed afloat as Warrick grabbed a hold of his hand.

Nick followed Fulton until the therapist had exited the pool area. Nick paused at the door and glanced back to see if his partner needed help with the injured body builder. With a lot of effort, Warrick had managed to pull the mammoth man out of the water. Roger Sikes collapsed back onto the floor as Warrick pulled out his cell to call for medical assistance.

Nick did not know when back up was going to arrive. He knew every minute that passed meant that Michelle Wilson was in danger, and Bob Fulton was closer to getting away with his crimes. "I'm going after them," he called behind him.

Breathing hard from pulling the large man out of the pool, Warrick screamed, "Nick!... Damn it, wait!"

It was too late and his partner was off to look for the physical therapist. Warrick had a critically injured man and tried his best to attend to him. In his gut he knew that Nick was doing his job, following an armed suspect who was holding a hostage. However, Warrick was filled with fear. Bob Fulton was dangerous, Nick was in no shape to take that nut job on. The CSI didn't know how much longer it would be till help arrived, which would free him up to go find Nick and back him up.

TBC...

* * *

Author's notes: How's that for a set up for the weekend? You wanted tension, and you got it.

Designation:

Sikes is just an asshole, but in the end he got what was coming to him, even maybe more than he deserved. Nick hasn't lost it, he's just wants to see this case solved, and feels somewhat responsible for whats happening, since his insticts were incorrect about the suspect.

csifan:

Here you go. Lots of action in the next chapter.

Tanquay:

Here you go another cliffhanger. Not too many more i'm afriad as this is the climax of the story...it has to end soon.

Auntypasta:

Hehe, aww the shower scene. sighs I don't wind down, I just wind tighter:-)

mudhousejunki:

Thanks for all your contiuned support! When did you suspect Fulton?

PLWynter:

Nick's a good old fasioned gentelmen, he doesn't like extra attention. Glad you are still here, thought you went away.

msquirrl:

I hope you tip toes don't hurt too much! Glad you're enjoying everything.

a.remains:

Thanks sweetie! Hope everything is all right with your computer. Hoped you liked this one smirk ducks away now before I get things thrown at me.

staresp4cat:

Yeah, I'm a bit scared for Nick now as well. I would imagine Catherine is not going to be very happy at all about this whole messs.

witchsword:

Nick and Warrick the trouble making duo. I adore both of them.

c1:

Its great to see you again, I wondered where you disappeared to. Glad you've been able to catch up.

Beth:

Thanks for your support.


	16. Chapter 16

(Not by fault about delays. Fanfiction Website was down ALL DAY Yesterady for Uploads) :-)

* * *

Nick did not know when back up was going to arrive. He knew every minute that passed meant that Michelle Wilson was in danger, and Bob Fulton was closer to getting away with his crimes. "I'm going after them," he called behind him.

Breathing hard from pulling the large man out of the pool, Warrick screamed, "Nick!... Damn it, wait!"

It was too late and his partner was off to look for the physical therapist. Warrick had a critically injured man and tried his best to attend to him. In his gut he knew that Nick was doing his job, following an armed suspect who was holding a hostage. However, Warrick was filled with fear. Bob Fulton was dangerous, Nick was in no shape to take that nut job on. The CSI didn't know how much longer it would be till help arrived, which would free him up to go find Nick and back him up.

Nick pushed open the door to the hallway carefully, and peeked his head around to check if it was clear to proceed. Neither Bob nor Michelle was in sight, and the CSI kept his back to the wall as he inched forward towards the next door. He listened for sounds of a struggle and heard muted voices from somewhere deeper within the building. Nick recalled the layout of the gym, conjured up the image in his head. It wasn't a massive place, and with an unwilling hostage in tow, the two could not have gotten far.

Nick forged ahead, turning the door knob in front of him just as Warrick had done earlier. He nudged it open with his toes, keeping his body protected from within the corridor. He got a glimpse of the pitbull-looking man already dragging the woman out of the room, the door shutting behind them. Nick only saw Bob Fulton's back, so he was hoping the suspect wasn't aware of the criminalists' pursuit. He heard Michelle Wilson's protests. It was obvious from the tone of her voice that she was trying to fend off the man.

Nick ran towards the next door, quickly growing weary of this cat and mouse game. He heard a yelp from inside and he twisted yet another doorknob, pushing the barrier forward with his foot. He peeked inside, recognizing the back entry of the weight room. Nick saw that Fulton was forcing Michelle to look at him, trying to calm her down. The fiery woman was having none of it, still screaming at him.

"I can't believe you shot Roger!... Bob... you bastard! After all that I've done for you!" Michelle's eyes flicked over and saw the criminalist enter. She headbutted her assailant, stunning him. Fulton's grip on her loosened, and she wiggled around and jabbed one of her fingers in his eye.

Fulton screamed in pain, letting the woman go while he pressed his left hand against his face. Michelle kneed him in the groin. She turned to run away; despite the pain, Fulton clawed at her madly, managing to snag the edge of her shirt. With a fistful of the garment, he pulled her back, grabbing the back of her neck once again.

Nick closed the distance between them, not having a clear shot with the two of them struggling.

"Let her go!" he commanded.

Fulton had blood trickling down his face. It was obvious he was having a hard time handling his furious hostage. Agitated, he flung the woman hard to his right. Michelle tried to stop her fall as she was hurled towards one of the weight machines. Her body slammed into one of the arm handles, her head connecting with part of the metal structure. She slumped to the ground.

Nick didn't have time to help her. Once Fulton released her, he charged at the CSI, knowing he was facing an armed opponent.

Nick's fingers began to squeeze the trigger, aiming point blank at the rushing suspect. Fulton tackled the criminalist, knocking them both to the ground. Nick had the wind knocked out of him, his own weapon lost in the tumble to the floor. Now the compact man was on top of him, his knees pressing down on the criminalist's chest. Nick had to get the heavier man off of him, fast. The pain to his already bruised body was excruciating and further aggravated his bad rib.

Fulton tried to punch him in the face, but Nick blocked the swing with his left arm. Then with all his might, Nick rolled over to his side, tipping the suspect over. He screamed from the effort, his worn-out body protesting this newest round of assault. The CSI managed to get to his hands and knees, struggling to take a breath and collect himself. Fulton scrambled to his feet first. Noting that the criminalist was still trying to get up, the infuriated man kicked him in the ribs as hard as he could.

Nick felt a foot connect hard into his side with a 'snap' propelling him onto his back. His vision exploded into gray around the edges, as he crumpled back to the ground, gasping for breath.

Fulton pulled out the gun he had stolen from Nick from the waistband of his pants. He glanced at Nick, who seemed unable to move. Fulton pressed his hand into his injured eye again with a curse. He glanced over to the unconscious figure of Michelle Wilson, and frowned.

"Look what you made me do!" he screamed at the CSI. He hobbled towards Nick, still reeling from the pain that the gym owner had afflicted on him. "All you bastards are all the same."

Fulton grabbed the front of Nick's jacket and yanked him up to his feet. Even though Nick was taller, Fulton used his greater upper body strength to hold him up. "I got a job at the gym after reading about it in the paper. I was in a position to learn that Roger was dealing steroids to his customers. I became just another paycheck to him."

Nick could barely focus on the suspect, trying with much difficulty to stay on his feet, ignoring the searing pain in his side, the roaring in his head. Fulton's breath was hot on his face.

"I became a friend. I joined their little clique. Even Bobby Boy could hang with all the other freaks. I played right up to their egos. I was someone they could turn to... all along they never expected what my true goal was." Fulton shook Nick slightly, just to see if the man was paying attention to him. Deciding that time was running out, Fulton flung the CSI towards a set of weights.

Nick could barely control his fall, his knee slamming against one of the sharp ends of the barbell painfully. Fulton stalked over to the fallen CSI. "Of course they never saw me coming... never knew what hit them. Kind of like with you that day in the physical therapy room." Fulton smirked, thinking back on the power he had that night.

Nick spotted one of the small hand weights sitting next to him. He propped himself up with his left hand, and made a grab for it with his right one.

Fulton loomed over the CSI, enjoying the moment. "Thanks to you, I was able to face that little fear of mine with Roger tonight. I got to see his expression when I shot him." Fulton smiled and pointed the gun at Nick's head. "Looks like I get to watch you die... twice."

Nick looked up into the mad man's eyes. "You forgot... one thing," he said in between ragged breaths.

Fulton looked confused. "What's that?"

"Bad knees," Nick said, slamming the small barbell into the side of Fulton's kneecap with all of his waning strength.

Fulton screamed and dropped the weapon as he fell to the ground. Nick used the bar bell end to jab it into Fulton's knee a second time, causing the man to curl up on his side. Fulton held onto his knee in a desperate attempt to quell the pain. With great difficulty Nick got to his feet, holding on to the small barbell. Fulton tried to drag himself and reach for his lost gun. Nick hobbled after him, his own left knee tingling with numbness. He saw the suspect reach for the weapon and with great effort, Nick hit the man in the back with the end of the free weight.

Nick screamed when his makeshift weapon impacted with Fulton's back. Pain shot down his arm, the muscles in his shoulder were abused past their limit. Fulton lay on his stomach gasping for breath after the powerful blow to his back. With his fight or flight response coursing through him, Nick limped past the injured suspect and he found his gun, not having the slightest clue where he had dropped his back up. Nick grabbed it with his left hand, not trusting the failing strength in his right one.

Beyond hurting, the CSI lowered himself on one of the weight benches, his gun trained on the unmoving physical therapist. Hearing Michelle groan, Nick stole a glance in her direction, relieved she was awake. She was holding her head gingerly, but it was obvious she wasn't fully aware of her surroundings.

Fulton struggled to get up, but didn't seem like he was able to get mobile. With the force that the CSI hit him with, it would not be surprising if he had cracked vertebrae. Nick was breathing fast and shallowly, with each heave of his chest sending an explosion of fire down his side. The room was spinning uncontrollably and his body was shaking.

Fulton remained sprawled on the ground. He was barely able to move his head. "They all had it coming," he wheezed.

"You deal... with the cruelty... of school... as a part... of growing up...then you ...get ...past ..it." Nick panted, staring at the man without sympathy.

The criminalist heard a commotion outside the door and watched as Jim Brass stormed in, two other officers close behind him.

Brass stopped in the middle of the room, taking in the scene before him. He raised his hand in the air. "All clear." He then turned to a blond headed officer. "Cuff that man," he said, pointing to Bob Fulton.

The two officers handcuffed Fulton, pulling him upright. He screamed about his back and knee, but the uniforms dragged him into the hallway. Warrick, Catherine and Grissom frantically entered the room. The trio looked at Nick with worry before Catherine went over to Michelle, who was looking around in a daze.

The Captain got on his radio. "This is Brass, go ahead and escort another EMT team in here, please." His gaze traveled between Michelle Wilson and Nick. "You'd better make that two teams," he amended at Grissom's worried look shot in his direction.

Grissom and Warrick were flanking Nick. Grissom relived the CSI of his weapon and took in his haggard appearance.

Catherine talked to Michelle, making sure the other woman was not seriously hurt. The gym owner fretted over the attention. "How's Roger?"

Catherine tried to calm the woman down. "He's on his way to Desert Palms. You'll see him when you go over there to get checked out."

Warrick looked over his friend. "Man, you look like Hell."

Nick slid himself to the floor, trying to use the side of the workout bench to lean his back on. He held his left arm around his chest; his right arm rested limply in his lap, not daring to jostle it around too much. "Sikes' alive?"

Warrick shook his head. Nick was certainly a piece of work, he mused. "He's got a good sized hole in his leg. I'd say if we didn't get to him when we did, we'd be processing a whole new scene."

Grissom looked at both of his men, and over at Catherine who had wandered over. "You two have a lot of explaining to do about tonight."

Warrick frowned, he knew that he and Nick were both in the doghouse. Catherine Willows crossed her arms in front of her chest, a very displeased look on her face. Both she and Grissom looked like two pissed off set of parents just waiting to reprimand two disorderly children.

One set of medics entered the room, and after assessing Michelle, escorted the woman under her own power to an awaiting ambulance outside. Brass stood away in the corner of the room, not really wanting to add to the tension that hung in the room.

Grissom took off his glasses and rubbed his face. Nick was putting up a good front by trying to cover up the pain he was in. Grissom turned his head towards the Detective. "Where are those other medics?"

"I'll go see what's taking them. I don't think they were prepared for three patients," he grumbled as he strode out the door.

Nick didn't like being such a strong object of attention. "I'll just ride with someone to the ER, okay?"

Warrick huffed. "Nick man, I don't even think you can stand up right about now. So, why don't you keep your ass on the floor, and let the nice EMT's give you a private ride to the hospital."

Nick decided it was time to close his eyes and ignore everyone in the room. He knew he'd be treated to the third degree soon enough. He wondered how many B&E's he'd have to pull when he came back to work after all this. He didn't even want to think about it, so he slowly succumbed to the darkness that had been threatening.

TBC...

* * *

Author's notes: What can I say, its wrapping up. One last chapter to go. Really hoped everyone enjoyed the last twist and turn of the roller coaster ride. I would have posted earlier, but there was something about sever issues from the website. 

Special note: Thanks to everyone who responded to "Another Night In Paradise," that was a one shot inspired by "4x4'. I could not resist. However, don't expect any romance stories from me, I'm strictly an angst woman. It was fun to write and I hope perceived as something gentle.

Staresp4cat:

Here you go my friend. We'll see what the results of this whole ordeal will be here shortly.

Aunty Pasta:

Sorry for the delay, but hope you liked!

PL Wynter:

Check out my newest one shot, I think you'll enjoy it.

Designation:

Did this one make you squirm as much?

Brandy Layne:

I've been cursed at! Here you go! Enjoy.

Tanquay:

I could not have all this lovely angst and action if Warrick was able to keep Nick from acting so recklessly. :-)

csifan:

Hehe, poor Nick he couldn't get out unscaved. Of course he got the bad guy in the end, but I wanted it to be realistic. Hoped you liked the confrontation!

A.Remains:

Hope you didn't hurt yourself in that fall. I like evil, yes I do!

roozy:

My like minded buddy, hope you had some valium after this chapter. One last dose of angst!

mudhousejunkie:

I hope this wasn't too long, had a long weekend. Thanks for being such a wonderful supporter!

Charmboy:

Here ya go! Hoped the suspense wasn't too much!

witchsword:

I'd never kill any of my favorite CSIs! Well...Nick's heart did stop..so I guess I all ready broke my rule. :-)

groban:

Hmm, you may be correct, Madame! Glad to see you're liking this so much. It was a pleasure writing.


	17. Conclusion

Warrick Brown 's expression remained neutral when the "river card" was revealed. He spread his cards out on the table and watched Greg Sanders with amusement as the younger man stared back at him in complete shock. The lab tech threw down his two pair in disgust.

"Why did I agree to play this game with you?" Greg whined after his tenth defeat in a row.

"You need to learn how to conceal your emotions. During cases it's a skill that you'll use daily; poker's a way for you to work on that," the other criminalist stated matter of factly.

The younger man didn't seem too convinced, thinking that maybe he was just a perfect mark for the gambler to have a little fun without getting into trouble. Greg sighed. "When can you go back to work?"

Warrick shook his head slowly. He wasn't exactly suspended. However, when he had arrived back at the lab after overseeing Nick's new stay at the hospital, there were vacation forms already filled out and approved for a few days waiting for him. "I go back in a day or so."

Greg scrunched up his face. "So, why am I here so early?"

Warrick smiled. "It's called penance, my friend. Your shift here doesn't start for a few hours, but I wanted some company."

Greg lounged back in one of the dining chairs as he looked around the townhouse. "Nick does have a nice pad."

The other man gazed around in appraisement. "It's a'aight. He could use some decorating tips, some swankier digs."

Greg was going to comment further when the doorbell rang. He glanced at his watch, noting it was a two hours before the Graveyard shift would begin. Smiling, the tech wandered over the door, looked through the peep hole and opened it for the other guests.

Grissom, Sara, Catherine, and even Brass wandered into the living area of the townhouse, scanning around for its owner. Puzzled, Catherine looked up at the other two men expectantly. "Where's Nick?"

Greg grinned like the Cheshire cat. "It's not time for him to wake up from his nap."

Brass wasn't able to suppress a chuckle, and Catherine looked at the tech somewhat amused. "His nap?"

Greg gestured towards Warrick, who had gotten up and now was leaning his back against the sofa. "Nurse Ratchet has him on a tight sleeping schedule. Nick knows better to get up out of bed before he's supposed to."

Grissom arched an eyebrow, ignoring the good natured jab Greg took to the shoulder from Warrick. "Is that going to be anytime soon?"

"I'll go let him know he's got company, " Warrick stated as he strode over to the bedroom. He pushed open the almost-latched door; his words clearly drifted out from the far end of the hallway. "Wake up sleeping beauty, you have visitors." The CSI disappeared from the doorway for a moment and slipped into the confines of the bedroom.

After a moment Warrick sauntered back over to the awaiting group, crossing his arms in front of him. "It takes him a minute."

Sara peered towards the door. "How is he doing?" The female CSI wasn't able to visit Nick when he had gone back to the hospital for another day, as she'd been swamped with a new case of her own.

The end of Warrick's mouth twitched. "He'll be all right in a couple of weeks. He broke another rib during the scuffle with Fulton. Doc has him in a shoulder immobilizer. He tore up his ligaments more by not using that sling of his, and he's got a nice pimpin' cane for the knee he busted up. He's still suffering from fatigue, so sleeping pills have been added to help him get the shut eye thats required. "

Catherine gaped slightly. "Just two weeks? Should he be on leave longer?"

Warrick shrugged. "The knee's just swollen and the ribs are going to take the longest to mend. Let's not forget those scrambled brains of his. However, he's done nothin' but sleep here for the past two days straight. When he goes back to work, it'll be light desk duty for a while."

"I'm sure he can lend Greg and Hodges a hand in the lab," Grissom informed him.

The object of all the discussion slowly hobbled out of his bedroom. Nick Stokes was certainly a sight, and the rest of the group tried not to stare.

Nick's right shoulder was held firmly against his chest by the immobilizer, and his left hand was holding onto a cane that he was using to limp along. Warrick took pity on him and wandered over. "You need some help, gimpy?"

"Nope... I've... got... it," he managed to huff in between breaths as he made his way towards the sofa.

After several more excruciating moments, Nick sat down heavily and smiled somewhat sheepishly at the assembled group. "Looks like a party," he commented with mild sarcasm.

Sara had taken to the love seat, while Catherine made her way towards the couch and sat down at the other end. The lead on the Gold Gym's homicides noticed that her colleague appeared more rested. The color was back in his face, and he seemed less haggard and exhausted. The easy smile was back in his face, and that filled her with warmth. "You look better."

Nick's face reddened slightly. "Yeah, well all I've done is sleep for two days," he said, casting scathing a look in Warrick's direction.

Warrick snorted. "I'm not falling for any pouting, man. You're going to learn the definitions for 'relax and recuperate'. Not my fault you can't take care of yourself."

Nick growled low in his throat, and Sara tried to suppress a giggle. The female CSI glanced over at Greg. "So, if Warrick's the nurse, who are you supposed to be?"

"I'm the other baby-sitter," the tech replied.

Nick was starting to get a bit miffed. "Guys, knock it off."

After a few minutes of extra ribbing, the room fell into silence. Nick tried to find a comfortable position on the couch, while propping his leg along most of the cushions. "Since I've been out of the loop after the initial arrest, are any of you going to update me?"

Brass took his cue to fill in some of the missing details. "Bob Fulton signed a complete confession in his hospital room, but his lawyers are going to still plead insanity. We got him for three counts of murder, as he copped to Michael Ross' death. We've also got him for two counts of attempted murder, and aggravated assault."

Nick nodded, taking in all the information. "And Sikes?"

Catherine took the opportunity to elaborate. "We've got him on pocession of a controlled substance with intent to distribute. He had a major steroid ring going on, and when he was interviewed he admitted to being hostile because he thought we were on to him about his operation. Of course he still had that whole Alpha male ego thing with you. He thought Fulton was going to squeal on him about the drug trafficking. That's what Fulton threatened him with unless he met him at the gym the other night."

Nick traced the shoulder immobilizer absently with his left hand. "I take it he pulled through without complications?"

Catherine shook her head slowly. "He was shot in the kneecap. He's officially disabled with a permanent limp."

Nick bowed his head slightly. The Ox-Man had proved to be an absolute asshole, but no one deserved to be assaulted like that. The CSI was still disgusted with himself over jumping to conclusions on that aspect of the case. He looked over at Catherine. "Do we know why Fulton killed Nancy?"

The female lead shrugged. "Fulton knew she was coming to speak to us. We don't know anything beyond speculation. We asked Fulton about her; he said she was on his "list" anyway, so it was all a matter of time to him."

"I guess I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time?" Nick speculated out loud.

Grissom took the opportunity to add his thoughts. "Bob Fulton was taking steroids on a daily basis. During the last few weeks, he was consuming them several times a day. He kept a stash at the gym. When he saw you with them, he lost control of his temper and attacked you. Then rest was just an act of uncontrolled rage and delusional behavior."

Nick was silent. He sort of knew the answer to the question before he'd mentioned it, but it was good to be able to confirm his thoughts. Warrick had been mum about any details of the arrest. The other criminalist had wanted to keep Nick's mind off the case, but he had also spent most of his time here at his townhouse, so he wasn't privy to all the details that were coming from the interrogations.

The whole team stuck around for a while, chatting about different topics and happy to spend a few moments away from the lab, even if it was the result of a horrific ordeal. Time elapsed and the team began to assemble to head to work. Warrick was even going to leave to catch some sleep at his own place, leaving Greg to remain with Nick for "his shift."

Nick stood up and hugged each member as they left. Jim Brass wandered over to shake the younger man's hand. Nick looked at the detective with a mixture of embarrassment and deep gratitude. "I never got a chance to thank you for saving me. I'd hate to think what would have happened if you hadn't come in when you did."

Jim wasn't one to get overly emotional; he clasped the other's man uninjured shoulder good naturally. "Sorry I popped one of your ribs."

Nick grinned. "It's better than the alternative. Next time I need someone to help with physical labor I know who to ask for help."

"Get better, Nicky." Jim followed Grissom and Sara outside.

Catherine slid her arms around Nick and gave him a gentle hug. She kissed him on the cheek. "I have two of my own spies now, mister. So follow orders and I'll see you later."

The team left, Warrick grabbed his duffle bag and collected his things while Greg went into the kitchen to begin cooking supper. Nick carefully hobbled back to his couch; the visit had worn him out a little. It was time for his meds, as his body painfully reminded him as the aches became evident with each movement. He began to get lost in his thoughts while he tapped his cane on the floor.

Warrick made his way over, crouched down and gave his buddy another round of ghetto low fives. "I'll be back tomorrow, man."

"Thanks for everything 'Rick... for backing me up... and for being there." Nick looked at his best friend. "Now please... go away." He grinned widely.

Warrick stifled a laugh. "You know I always got your back, bro."

Nick didn't get up as his coworker left. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The past week had taken its toll on him both mentally and physically. He exhaled a deep breath, knowing how differently things could have ended. He promised himself to practice better judgment. He knew he was a good CSI, but he still had a few things to learn. The criminalist was just grateful to be surrounded by people he could count on.

His musing was interrupted by the sound of a pot crashing to the floor. He opened his lids and sighed. "Don't destroy my kitchen, G!" he yelled.

Nick rubbed a hand over his face, chuckling. One thing was for sure, he needed to get back into shape so he could reclaim his townhouse again.

The End.

* * *

Author's notes:

First off I want to thank my beta Krysalys for all of her patience, suggestions and support for this story. It was wonderful to bounce ideas off you. The evil red ink was my friend, and you will always be my angst buddy! Big hello and thanks to Sunset, you've been a kind friend during this and I'm glad we became buddies. Also a huge shout out to Shacky for all of our late night e-mail exchanges.

A HUGE thanks to all of you who commented and gave me feedback during this saga. After a while it was very cool to see what you reactions were to all of this, and I'm happy so many people got enjoyment out of all the ups and downs of this journey. If you're still a lurker don't be shy and say hello! To those who hung onto every chapter all of you rock!

I should not be gone for long. I'm in the middle of writing something new, planning the next one,and I have a couple of one shots to post some time soon. Keep an eye out, I shall return. If anyone wants to say hello or talk about writing or the show feel free to e-mail me. note: I know I'm not that evil. It seems the chapter with the most hits were of course Chapter 6, followed by 7. I guess we all have a bit of evil in us. :-) The next popular were chapters 12 and 13 when Greg took Nick home, isn't that sweet!

shoebe:

Thanks for all of your comments. To think the original spark to this story was to have Nick butt heads with a difficult suspect. Hence Roger was born. Glad to see it was a nice mislead. I'm glad you could picture this as an actual episode.

csifan:

So, it concludes. Thank you for your feedback, my like minded psychic. Your insightful comments were always a pleasure.

staresp4cat:

One of the most true loyalists. Thanks for all of your continued support. I hope this wrapped up things nicely. I'm sure I'll see you soon.

Designation:

I liked the final confrontation. I'm glad you did as well. My beta told me it was like the "race of the gimps" at the end. It needed to be tense, but in the end our guy won out. Thank you for you wonderful feedback. Look forward to new things from you soon, I hope.

sokerfreak:

Thanks for your comments. It is sad to end it, but there will be new things in the future.

stonedtoad:

Thank you. Glad you enjoyed it.

witchsword:

I love that line as well. Can't you picture Griss and Cath with their arms crossed, looking all the world like they'd like to throttle Warrick and Nick if they could. Thank you.

mudhousejunkie:

Thank you for all you patience and comments. You're a doll. Keep your eyes open for later things.

groban:

Did I ever mention that I love Warrick and Nick together! He gives Nicky such a hard time, its so much fun. Thank you for all the feedback. Glad to see you again after WITW.

Tanquay:

Thank you once again. I fell like a broken record, but it was such a thrill to see such loyalty. You're thoughts were always appreciated.

rozzy:

What can I say my evil vixen friend. I do give Nick a pounding no pun intended, but he's a tough guy, and makes such interesting things to write. I don't know if I could ever writing anything else, but I'll always try to be creative as possible while maintaing a sense of realism.


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